#Thursday: ??? guess we’ll see

[quinn-of-aebradore]

I am sitting here with a Suspicion that Imogen might die tonight and idk what to do with it

[strang3lov3]

I have many sweet messages and horny thoughts and little life updates from you friendos in my inbox ❤️ will be answering them soon, probably tomorrow. I’m not feeling so hot and wanna get a good night of sleep before class starts up again tomorrow. I love ya I love ya I love ya

[aceofstars16]

The depression and emptiness is real tonight, prayers appreciated

[exopelagic]

auuudggghghhrhrhrbrr

[ladyygrace]

i think i’ve earned a do-over for this whole week; it’s been a disaster

[pomegranatesarchive]

two people that matched each others freak | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: max verstappen and y/n l/n love to match each others freak.

liked by, carlossainz, maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 692,028 others!

yourusername: what an unfortunate series of events. first crash kinda nervous 🥰🥰@/carlossainz kill yourself for what you did to me.

view comments below!

user1: LMAO THE CASUAL SELFIE AFTER THAT BIG ASS CRASH ??

user2: carlos deserves way more then a 5 place penalty after that…

user3: no literally ??? y/n is literally BLEEDING !!

maxverstappen1: yeah @/carlossainz. KILL YOURSELF.

user4: you tell ‘em max 🗣️🗣️

user5: queens first crash and it’s not even her fault 😞😞

user6: queens first crash and she almost DIES

user7: carlos hate club reunite !!!

user8: oh let’s not…

user9: to quote y/n: “accidents happen. i know carlos didn’t get into his car with the intention of hurting me. there’s no hard feelings whatsoever.”

carlossainz: IM SO SORRY Y/N.

yourusername: i only take apologies in cash and gift cards xx.

maxverstappen: i only take apologies in cash.

carlossainz: why would i apologize to you?

maxverstappen1: because you almost killed my bestfriend.

carlossainz: do you accept venmo?

user8: max still calling y/n his bestfriend even tho they’ve been dating for two years now is so ??

user9: they were bestfriends for 6 years before that so..

charles_leclerc: give us a big scare there l/n 😬 happy you’re okay!

yourusername: thank you charles ❤️ but because you are carlos teammate, i feel like i am also owed compensation from you as well.

maxverstappen1: yeah leclerc! pay up!!

charles_leclerc: text me the amount 😞

user10: i love how max just goes along with everything y/n says???

user11: we love a man who matches his gfs freak ❤️❤️

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz, redbullracing, and 720,629 others!

maxverstappen1: thank you to @/charles_leclerc and @/carlossainz for funding our date night 💙

view comments below!

user12: NO WAY

user13: CARLOS AND CHARLES ACTUALLY SENT THEM THE MONEY ???

user14: this is so cute 🥹

user15: yns so pretty 🙁

maxverstappen1: the prettiest 💙💙

user16: i just looked at my bf and sighed

charles_leclerc: ofc!! cute couple 🥰🥰

user17: charles definitely has a favorite couple

user18: y/n, my favorite nerd

user19: max, my favorite nerd lover

user20: perfect couple

user21: i have a theory that y/n and max are so happy together because they genuinely compliment each other so well

user21: they literally clicked as soon as they met, and they have said that “they feel at home” with each other, they can be their true selves when they’re together

user21: conclusion; i’m lonely and i wish i had a relationship like this

carlossainz: you’re welcome ig. am i forgiven now?

yourusername: we’ll see!

liked by 284,029 others!

f1gossip: throwback thursday!!! throwback to when max and y/n broke the internet, by announcing they were both no longer virgins..through cake.

view comments below!

user22: oh yes the good old days

user23: been matching each others freak since DAY ONE

user24: back when ynstappen was still not OFFICIALLY confirmed

user25: you should throwback to when max refused to resign with red bull until they gave y/n a multi-year contract ☺️☺️

user26: this was a CRAZY day for f1

user27: this connected the dots for all the ynstappen shippers because they basically confirmed they lost their virginity to EACHOTHER!!

user28: did we ever find out who’s idea this was?

user29: a couple months ago it was brought up and max spoke: “i know lots of people think it was yns idea..but it was actually mine. i guess i was just tired to hiding our relationship, so i brought it up, and y/n thought it was hilarious.”

user30: my parents ☝️☝️

user31: from teammates, to friends, to bestfriends, to lovers. living my dream.

user32: them.

user33: if they breakup i will genuinely never believe in love ever again.

user34: them becoming bestfriends was so unexpected, but made so much sense.

user35: if it weren’t for the ice cream shop they never would have happened ☹️

user36: pls explain?

user35: this is when y/n and max had just started the season as teammates, max hadnt performed his best at one of the races, coming in at 6th with y/n behind in 7th

user35: after the race, y/n had unexpectedly asked max to go get ice cream with her at a ice cream shop nearby

user35: max, feeling like he didn’t deserve to celebrate in anyway, declined. but y/n persisted, basically pulling him into that ice cream shop

user35: that’s when max said he truly had the time of his life, he felt happy, even though his race went horrible, he said that he has so much fun with yn and that he has never laughed so hard; the start of ynstappen ☹️

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, landonorris, and 729,624 others!

yourusername: siri, play nasty by tinahe.

view comments below!

maxverstappen1: listening to it right now!

maxverstappen1: oh wow

maxverstappen1: i like this liefde!! 💙💙

maxverstappen1: come to the room so we can listen together!!

yourusername: coming!! 💙💙

landonorris: you are aware you can text privately right?

user36: THE ICE CREAM SHOP PICTURE

user37: he looks so happy 😭😭😭😭

user38: sobs

user39: y/n healing maxs inner child is something i KNEW i needed.

user40: power couple !!!

danielricciardo: i been a nasty girl, i been a nasty girl

user41: i need someone to love me like max loves y/n

landonorris: whos gonna match my freak 😣

user58: ME I WILL PLS LANDO I WILL

user42: the first picture?? 😭😭

user43: omg the second picture. i’m going to throw up with joy. i love you guys.

user44: ynstappen ships used to PRAY for days like these.

liked by, yourusername, redbullracing, danielricciardo, and 829,924 others!

maxverstappen1: i’ll match her freak!!! i will !!!

view comments below!

user45: yes max, we know

user46: i just looked at my boyfriend and sighed

user47: the shirt???

maxverstappen1: @/danielricciardo thank you for the shirt :D i love it 💙

user48: i’m totally ready for max to wear that shirt on race day…

yourusername: the perfect photographer 🥰

maxverstappen1: it’s easy when my muse is perfect ☺️☺️

user49: that SHOULD BE ME.

user50: con🥹gra🥹tula🥹tions

user51: no one will ever understand how much i love this couple

user52: we love a man who matches his gfs energy ❗️❗️❗️

user53: so happy for you guys! haha. ha. ha. so happy.

charles_leclerc: beautiful shirt mate!

user54: the way charles and max still don’t follow each other but this is charles every time max post:

user55: oh! such a cute shirt! haha, ha, i’m so lonely.

user56: max could do better

maxverstappen1: kill yourself you worthless piece of garbage

user57: y’all saying you miss mad max but he makes an appearance every time someone says something negative about y/n 😭

. . .

notes: took a small break to enjoy my summer break start!! but i’m back, request are open !!

[littlemelaninfics]

Surprise, Surprise

a/n: I had this mostly written in my drafts before Bi!Buck actually became canon and wanted to finish it, so enjoy <3 (18+ ONLY)

Warnings: pregnant reader, fluff (whoa! Cali writes fluff? Don’t get used to it 😉)

“Is y/n feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because she looks - Well she looks a little-“

“Hot.” Maddie said.

“Yeah that,” Chim agreed while pointing to Maddie.

“Hot?” Buck asked furrowing his brow.

“As in sexy. Foxy. Hot!” Maddie said very bluntly that even had her husband looking at her. Athena and Hen scurried to the three at the kitchen island to join in,

“You guys talking about Y/n?” Hen asked.

“I don’t mean to be suggestive as I am a woman of class, but whatever you’re doing Buck, keep doing it,” Athena nodded as she raised her glass to the gals.

“It’s not that she wasn’t THAT before now, but we haven’t seen her in a while and she looks and even feels different. I can feel her vibe from here,” Hen said as she playfully grasped at the air in your direction.

“Uh, heh, yeah. I guess things are a little different,” Buck said while looking back at you sweetly,

“Uh, I mean, things are good! Great even! That’s why you guys are here. We wanted to see everyone in one room for once,” Buck smiled, “so glad you’re all here.” Buck sipped on his beer before his foot got stuck any further down his throat.

The get together was in full swing when you went and grabbed the extra bag of ice from the freezer. Buck saw you out of the corner of his eye and practically flew out of his pants rushing over to you. Eddie saw the interaction from across the room and squinted his eyebrows in his chismoso ways. He migrated to the group by the counter with a full on detective look on his face,

“Y’all saw that, right?”

“You mean the way Buck Scooby-Doo’ed his way out of his seat to help a grown woman carry 10 pounds of ice? Yeah.” Hen confirmed. All heads turned to Eddie waiting for an explanation.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“You’re his best friend,” Maddie said matter of factly.

“You’re his sister,” Eddie mocked back.

“I mean it would explain the changes we all see,” Hen shrugged her shoulders.

“The glowing skin, thicker hair, filled out in the appropriate places…” Athena drifted off.

“The cravings, the mood swings, the crying…” Chimney chimed in. Now all heads swifted his way,

“I saw her last Thursday-

“Chimney!”

“Dude!”

“What!? I wasn’t paying attention to anything except the safety and well being of my Jiyung. But it does make a little more sense now…”

They stared on as Buck kissed you on your forehead and took the ice to the cooler. Bobby rounded the corner in the backyard and made his way over to you, giving you the biggest hug. The group realizes he’s pointing to Buck a lot and using grand gestures,

“Think he knows something?” Hen asked Athena who just looked on. Bobby went to head inside when he spotted the gathering at the counter and immediately stopped in his tracks to turn the other way.

“He knows!” Eddie said has he raced around the counter, beating Bobby to bathroom,

“Hey Cap! What’s up?”

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“Nothin. Just hangin out, you know,” he said with a big smile and deep eye contact trying to read his Captain.

Feeling awkward,

“Alright well, I’m gonna..” Bobby said as he motioned to the bathroom.

“Yeah, man! For sure! We’ll be right out here!” Eddie walked back to the island.

“He’s not coming out,” Chimney said, “Do you think that’s why everyone’s here? So they can tell us all?”

“I guess we’ll find out, but we can’t in good conscience harass Bobby into telling us,” Athena said as she was the first to walk off.

The party went on for another hour or so when Buck called the attention of everyone,

“Y/N and I would first like to start off by thanking you all for being here. It means a lot to us that we can see the people we love and care about all together and creating memories. That’s why today is so special. Uh, it has come to my attention that some of you may be guessing…” he said as he turned his attention to his family and they turned to Bobby who kept his eyes wide and trained forward,

“My wife and I have created our true dream life and forever team. We’ve been through so much together and have been privileged to have had all of you by our side along the way. Which is why we are-words can’t even describe this feeling, but we are beyond blessed to announce that we are expecting our first child-”

The party erupted in cheer and Bobby let out a sigh of relief before joining in on the applause. Buck never got to finish his speech before parents were coming up to you both and giving hugs.

“You knew?” Athena asked Bobby.

“For 3 weeks now. He said he needed to tell someone but knew it was too early to tell everyone.”

“Ohh, so in the end you just respecting Buck’s wishes?” She delivered with a playful side eye.

“Exactly,” he said leaning down to kiss her forehead and pull her in.

[moscnios]

Hi Zuko, how are you? I Just read you write poly, so may I ask a Benn + female reader + Shanks, nsfw please? Thank you

★ GUESS WHO! shanks + beckman ★

── pairing. shanks x f!reader x beckman.

── summary. shanks and beckman have the lovely idea of playing a fun little game of guess who in the bedroom. this time, with a blindfold.

── cw(s). nsfw. pwp. afab!reader. she/her pronouns used. sub!reader. oral. ( f receiving ) blindfold. overstimulation. piv. unprotected sex. mating press. manhandling. ( kinda sorta ) shanks calls the reader “gorgeous”, “pretty girl”, “beautiful”. beckman calls the reader “darlin”. not proofread. MINORS DNI.

── wc. 1.6k.

── notepad. i’ve been trying to write this for SO long it’s almost ridiculous. it went through so many changes until i FINALLY got the inspiration randomly in the middle of the night on a thursday🗿🗿im so sorry this took SO LONG. also further spreading my southerner beckman propaganda muahahaha

“all i’m saying is, i find it a bit unfair that i’m the only one that can’t see,” you muttered, as your fingertips tugged at the satin black blindfold covering your eyes. large, rugged hands gently wrapped themselves around your wrists, guiding your curious hands up to the pair of soft familiar lips of the greying gunslinger who was behind you.

though you could not see him, you focused on how gently and loving, beckman kissed your hands. just that quick almost forgetting there was another person here with you. another hand found your bare thighs, making you jolt and close your legs in surprise, goosebumps covered your skin.

your redheaded captain’s voice reached your ears, “because if you could see the game would be ruined.”

“what game? what did you talk beckman into?” you questioned, earning a light chuckle from the gunslinger behind you. he let your hands fall to your sides, kissing from your shoulder up to the base of your neck, as his hands moved to fiddle with the loose tie of your silk robe.

“i’ll have you know, for once this was his idea,” shanks clarified, prying your thighs part, catching a glimpse of your panties hidden underneath your robe. “we wanted to play a little game of guess who. we’ll ask you who’s pleasing you, and you will just have to guess. if you answer correctly, you get a reward. if you answer incorrectly…well…” he trailed off, as both he and beckman stopped touching you all together. you couldn’t hold the desperate whine that fell from your lips, your body fidgeting in between beckman’s thighs, where you sat on the edge of the king-sized bed you all shared, needed to feel them touch you again.

you didn’t even have to see them to know that both of your boyfriends were smirking down at you.

“because we love ya, we’ll start very easy.” beckman began, wrapping his strong arms back around your body and finally undoing your robe tie, opening to reveal your burning body underneath a matching set that left little to the imagination. his breath was hot against the shell of your ear, “is that okay with you, darlin?”

you eagerly nod your head at his words. you could hear your boyfriends lightly tsk, making you pout. you knew better than that.

shanks moved closer, taking your chin into his hand, guiding your pretty little head to where he was, “use your words, gorgeous.”

“yes, i want this. i want both of you,” you breathed out.

“much better, pretty girl,” he smiled, leaning crash his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss that he‘s been waiting to give you since he saw you walk out of the bathroom in this damn little robe that didn’t even cover your ass. just as fast as the kiss came, it was gone, as he pulled away from your lips with a laugh. it felt like a damn punishment, “now pretty girl, who was that?”

“you, shanks.”

“easy guess,” he teased. using the space between your legs, he carefully got onto his knees on the floor in front of him. if you could only see him.

beckman moved his rough hands up your hot skin, bringing his hand up your face, turning your face to him for a kiss. his kiss couldn’t be any more different than shanks. not hungry and rough, but passionate and soft. they must have mistaken you for dumb if they didn’t know you already could tell who is who by their kiss and the taste of their lips. it wasn’t hard to tell the difference between cheap beer and cigarette smoke and that sweet bourbon you got him for his birthday.

beckman spoiled you a little, giving you a longer kiss before eventually pulling away. he was always sweet on you. “and who was that?” he said, his lips practically ghosting on top of yours.

“you, beckman.”

“atta girl.”

“this is easy. i got this.”

this was easy, far too easy. you could do this with your eyes closed, well, blindfolded. you had known the both of them like the back of your hand. so just how bad could it get?

how bad could it possibly be, with your matching set discarded somewhere on the floor and your naked body sprawled on the bed and your shaking legs struggling to stay wide open, threatening to close around just whoever’s head was finger fucking and eating out your pussy like a starved man with no shame, making a mess of you. all while the other, alternated between sucking and kneading your tits and swallowing your moans into their mouth.

you couldn’t tell who was who, too dazed and fucked out from your previous orgasms for a name to spill from your swollen lips, as you take what is given to you.

he flicks his tongue over your puffy clit, before sucking roughly on your bundle of nerves, pumping his thick digits in and out of your pussy at an unforgiving pace. that band in the pit of your stomach was stretching thin, threatening to burst, for the second time tonight, maybe it was the third, you weren’t sure.

if ‘no touching’ weren’t one of the rules of the game, your fingers would be pulling at the hair of the bastard who was making you feel so fucking good. instead, you grip the sheets, as you reach your orgasm, thrashing against the hold of the other fucker who was holding you down.

“who just made you cum, sweetheart?”

coming down from your high, you had nearly forgotten about the game. you aren’t even sure whose voice you were listening to. you try to think real hard “…s-shanks?” your shaky voice whispered.

that ill-fated tsk coming from beside you, “wrong again. what happened to that confidence from earlier? i thought you had this,” shanks teased. he helped sit you up, leaning your back against his bare chest, as he used the headboard to support himself. he rested his chin on the top of your head. “poor beck, working so hard to pleasure you and you still guessed wrong. i think you should make it up to him, don’t you think so too?”

“yes! i want to! please…let me make it up to him.”

“look at that, where did this eagerness come from?” it was beckman’s turn to tease you. this was a side of him you had yet to see, a side you were enjoying.

as you try to catch your breath, you don’t even hear the whisper exchange between your boyfriends. you can only make out shanks giggling under his breath and beckman removing himself from your legs and the bed altogether. the redhead massaged gentle circles in the small of your back.

oh, how you yearned to see them, even for just a second. finally, you heard beckman rid himself of his pants, freeing his cock from its restraint and you felt the bed dip again.

beckman’s rough hands grip your hips, pulling you almost out of shanks’s lap, leaving your head resting on his thigh. he laid you on your back. before you could even spread your legs, he forces them up, pressing your knees up to your chest further than you even knew they could go before stuffing your sopping, greedy cunt full with his cock inch by inch. as he bottoms out, he lets out a low groan of “fuck”.

“oh baby, he just slid right in, fuck,” shanks breathed out, letting his fingers graze the side of your face as he hovered over you, admiring your fucked out expressions and pretty mewls as if they were the most beautiful melody he had ever heard.

beckman began to move, his slow thrusts gradually picked up speed, as he found a rough pace, drilling you into the mattress. shanks was hard as a rock watching as he pitched in a strong hand to help keep one of your quivering legs up to your chest. the way your pussy swallows beckman’s cock over and over again, leaving a thick creamy white ring at the base. the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, each one greater than the last one, leaving you babbling incoherently. it's

“that’s it, beautiful. you’re taking him so well,” shanks praised, making your pussy flutter around beckman’s cock. the gunslinger let out a low grunt, before grinning, “oh, she loved that.”

to hell with not touching. one of your arms was wrapped around beckman’s neck, as was intertwined with shanks’ hand as you reached your high, giving them your third orgasm of the night. or was it the fourth? “that’s it, let go, gorgeous.”

beckman followed behind you, filling your pussy to the brim with his cum. he slowly slid out of you, gently bringing your legs back down to the mattress, not before making sure to plant sweet kisses on your bruised thighs and ankles from where he held a bit too tight.

still lost in your pleasure, you hadn’t even processed that they had traded places, beckman was once again behind you while shanks had settled himself in between your legs. beckman removed your blindfold, allowing you to finally see.

shanks surprises you with the first stride up your folds, causing you to shutter in overstimulation. “too much,” you stutter, hazily watching as the redhead cleaned you up with his tongue, humming in delight against your leaking cunt. for only a moment you swear you could feel him smirk against you.

“how honey, we’re just getting started. besides you still have to make up for all of your wrong guesses.”

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[seeingivy]

sweetener

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

previous part linked here

--

--

megumi fushiguro has a penchant for three things. to be overly curious, unyieldingly inquisitive, and have a considerably noticeable lack of restraint when it comes to personal boundaries. that much has been true since you met him in the sixth grade. 

in most cases, those are the three things that you appreciate the most about him; that he can look over your songs and artwork with thoughtful questions, encourage changes and tweaks you couldn’t have dreamed up yourself, and at the very least, be the vote of confidence that pushed you out of your comfort zones at times – which was severely needed at times. 

in the current situation, all three of those tendencies were working against you. because you were about to get a very severe interrogation. nothing stopped him from getting the answers that he wanted. 

“so were you planning on telling me you were dating sukuna or was that just supposed to be a happy surprise?” he mutters. 

you turn to your left to eye him – noting that his usual uninterested glare is more steely than usual – as you shoot him a polite smile. granted, knowing the situation and knowing megumi fushiguro as well as you do, you could have supposed that your ritual thursday morning coffee run would be subject to this interrogation. that at some level, you were even asking fo rit. 

there isn’t anything that megumi fushiguro doesn’t know about you. there isn’t anything that you don’t know about him. nothing has ever stopped you – a time zone, long distance, even forcible attempts – so the current predicament, that you have yet to tell him about your very public relationship, was a recipe for disaster. 

and you know for a fact that if it were you, you would be doing way worse. 

“are you going to respond?” he asks, the tone in his voice giving away his impatience. 

the current walk reminds you of one thing. that being subject to irritated glare that megumi usually reserves for other people and very rarely sports towards you isn’t a feeling that you necessarily like. or ever want to get used to. 

 “if i answer happy surprise, will you be more annoyed than you already are?” you joke. 

“take a guess.” he deadpans. 

you frown, looping your arm in through his as you both cross the sidewalk, on your walk three blocks down to the play coffee, where you’re meeting sukuna and yuuji for breakfast. granted, that invite – and the fact that it didn’t come from you either – didn’t necessarily help the situation at hand. 

megumi’s comments about yuuji being overly enthusiastic about meeting you, and the fact that you were now dating sukuna, were clearly no joke. 

“i just find it really strange. i’m not really sure what angle you’re playing at here.”  megumi states. 

you sigh. 

“i’m not playing at an angle. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you before and i know that not telling you doesn’t really help my case, but there is no angle. sukuna and i are just talking. we aren’t even dating yet.” you state. 

megumi clears his throat. 

“yet?” 

“well, we’ll see where it goes. maybe we won’t even date at all. or we will, for a really long time. i’m just playing the entire thing by ear since it’s been a while since i’ve talked to someone i didn’t really know beforehand.” 

megumi scoffs. 

“so you realized you made a mistake by deciding to date the guy who's been your best friend for two years and then decided to turn around and do the opposite thing the next time you tried to talk to someone? by talking to a stranger?” 

“he’s not a stranger! he’s romeo’s brother, that definitely helps in his case.” 

megumi’s uncharacteristically silent. you wrap your arm around his wrist and pull back, gesturing for him to stop in the middle of the sidewalk before letting go. you can tell that he’s unrelenting, barely even meeting your eyes as you teeter back and forth on the balls of your feet, and wait for him to talk again. 

“megumi.” you murmur. 

“what’s the angle? i know you.” he responds back, almost exasperated. 

you debate telling him the truth. debate telling him the truth and hearing it from him in earnest – that he doesn’t think you’re very smart, that your career certainly can’t mean so much that you’d pretend to date someone, and that you’re thoughtless for messing with something that’s so important to him in the process. 

yuuji. and his family, by proxy. 

“there is no angle. he was the one who approached me and i’m just getting to know him. i didn’t even realize he was romeo’s brother until after the first time that we talked.” you state. 

“you didn’t realize that his twin brother….was his brother?” he asks. 

“they’re fraternal. and it was dark.” you state. 

“so the whole song, basketball game, that was all just an extra bonus? a surprisingly convenient way to get back at jake and aimee?” he asks. 

you sigh. 

“okay. so things were public a little fast. so fast that i didn’t even get to tell you about it beforehand. and maybe part of it was me being mad at jake and aimee and just feeling irritated and…and he was there to help me…but i’m not purposely leaving you out of anything. it just happened. and yes, it benefits him too since she’s been talking about him in the press, but it wasn’t planned.”  you state. 

you pause before continuing. 

“you’ve been busy with press. this is the first time i’ve seen you in a while. and i swear, if i had a chance to tell you – not over the phone by the way and actually in person – you would be the first to know.” 

megumi looks over, sparing the smallest smile, on which you return to his side and loop your arm through his before leaning your cheek against his bicep. 

“you can understand why i’m concerned, right?” he murmurs. 

“i know. i don’t want us to interfere with your almost eighteen month attempt at your… whatever…with romeo.”  

megumi clicks his tongue in his cheek. 

“this is not about yuuji. i could care less about that. this is about you.” he deadpans. 

“what about me?” 

megumi sighs. 

“about you and aimee. what interacting with her can do. how obsessive it can become.” he states. 

there’s an overwhelming dry patch in your throat. 

“i don’t care that you didn’t tell me on time. i don’t even really care that you’re dating him. i…think he’s great. he clearly cares about you a lot, he asks me stuff about you all the time. i’m just worried about you. you’re thinking about aimee a lot. getting involved with her again. i just wanted to make sure that you were fine.” 

you understand the implication and frown. 

“i’m fine. if it was like that, i would have told you.” 

“but you understand why i’m asking? because there was a time that you didn’t tell me. quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve withheld anything from me. and i don’t want things to escalate so far that…that i miss something.” 

you turn towards him, reaching forward to place a hand on his shoulder. the searing guilt that this is the second time now – the second time that you’re willingly withholding something from megumi – makes your stomach twist in a way that you don’t like. 

“i haven’t even given her a second thought.” 

that was a lie too. a third. 

“and trust me. more than anything, i’m more annoyed that jake has zero class.” you add. 

megumi scoffs. 

“well, i could have told you that much from the start. who wears khakis to a black tie formal?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“plus. isn’t that kind of cute? that we’re dating two brothers? we’re like sister wives!”  

“or brother husbands. and i thought you weren’t dating.” megumi states. 

“yet. who knows where it’s going to go from here?” you clarify. 

“well, sukuna definitely wants it to go that way. he really does ask about you. quite often, i might add.” he mentions. 

you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm up. that your curiosity’s been piqued maybe a little more than it should have. it would give away too much – but you need to know every detail. the tone of his voice, the order he said it all in, if he smiled when he talked about you. 

“what did he say?” 

“he was just admiring that you’re very clever. the whole espresso thing. which i think is fucking ridiculous because you hate coffee, but i get the connection. honestly, i feel like he’s kind of shocked that you even like him in the first place.” 

“what’s he so shocked about?” 

megumi shrugs. 

“i don’t know. i guess he’s used to people settling for him or something along those lines according to yuuji. but he’s been pretty happen since you came around.” 

happy that you’re going to save his career.

--

one thing was very clear to you from the deep dive internet search that you did on sukuna a few  days prior. that if there was one thing that was beloved to him – and his fans – it was the coffee shop that he worked at when he was sixteen. 

play coffee was nestled at the end of the block, right on the corner next to a convenience store. just from the design inside – old stained glass windows, red bricks – you could tell that the building was definitely repurposed from its original use.

“yuuji told me that he was out back moving some things into stock. i’m gonna go talk to him before we join you guys, okay?” 

“sure. do you want me to order for you?” 

“sure. just ask sukuna to get me my usual.” megumi notes. 

you shoot him a polite nod, before pushing through the double glass doors, and stopping short of the display case. there’s no one you can see towards the front counter – the unmistakable  pink hair nowhere to be found – as you stop to take note of the pastries in the glass case. 

a sheet cake, perfectly sliced at the bottom, next to a glistening pie, with an intricately designed crust. three donuts in a line, a bundt cake, and what you’re guessing is the most extensive assortment of croissants that you’ve ever seen in your life. 

you pause to take a picture of the pie crust, noting the braided pattern on the outer edge, before you’re startled by the presence of another voice. 

“which one caught your eye?” 

the woman standing at your side is looking over at you, eyes wide and expectant as she waits for an answer, and as you clock exactly who she is. some part of you was convinced that your searing memory – the fact that you remember everything in painstaking detail – had to be some type of superpower at this point. 

alina. sukuna’s boss. she’s the one that owns the coffee shop. and by proxy, you assume the woman that sukuna’s so overly fond of to stay here and invest in for so long. 

“the pie. it’s lemon meringue right?” 

“that’s right.” 

“i was just admiring the design on the crust. it’s hard to find places that have such intricate crusts. or even offer lemon meringue as an option. i usually have to make it on my own.” 

alina hums in response. 

“sour on the outside, sweet on the inside. is that your type?” she states.

“what?” 

“that’s how sukuna makes that one. he makes the meringue more sour and the filling more sweet. swears that it’s better that way. is that the type of lemon meringue pie you like?”   

you give her a polite nod. and note that you’re not the only one who seems to remember things in painstaking detail. 

“sorry, yeah. you said sukuna made it?” you ask. 

she gives you a smile. 

“he’s a big baker. something you’ll have to get used to, i suppose, since his mom says that he does get an itch to start baking in the middle of the night sometimes.” 

you give her an awkward smile. of course she knows who you are. if he’s close enough to save her coffee shop from being evicted, he’s definitely going to let her know when he’s seeing someone new. 

it was normal. what you did wasn’t. 

“i’m kind of an insomniac too, so that would be fine with me. and i like baking. and it doesn’t seem like he’s half bad at it.” you ask. 

“you like baking too?” she asks. 

“oh, i try to make my own food when i can. taking the time to make it makes it easier for me to eat it and enjoy it.” you state. 

you smile, swallowing down the warmth that’s settling into your throat, to keep the conversation going. and hope that wasn’t an awkward thing ot say. 

“he’s been talking about you. playing your espresso song in the shop because he claims it’s good for business, but i think it’s just because he likes it so much.” 

“oh. you play my song here? that’s really sweet of you guys.” 

you pause, before turning to the left and extending your hand out to her. it’s an opportune time because it’s right as sukuna comes out of the closed door in the back – a glistening sheen of sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. you note that the dress code that everyone seemed to follow – at least from the pictures that you saw on the website – is one that applied to everyone but sukuna. 

because you can see his fully tattooed arms on display in the dark green tank top he’s wearing. you restrain yourself from looking at the art on his arm fully and look up to find him grinning at you, looking a little too happy for your liking. 

he probably thinks that you were checking him out. 

“you could have hollered when you got here, y/n. and of course we played your song here.” sukuna states. 

“well, that would have gotten you and your sweat over here faster. plus, i was introducing myself to alina.” you respond. 

sukuna laughs. 

“trust me, you don’t need an introduction. i’m convinced i know more about you than you do at this point.” alina murmurs. 

sukuna turns around to narrow his eyes at her, one that makes her smile very brightly, before she scuttles away towards the back. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. 

“she’s like my pseudo mom. she just asked a lot of questions about you, that’s all.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. 

“and how were you able to come up with so many answers?” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“your best friend since childhood has been my co-worker for the past year. and he also lingers around my apartment basically everyday.” 

“i have a sneaking suspicion that’s not really true, sukuna.” you state.  

“oh?” 

you shrug. 

“i never even told you we were childhood best friends. how would you know to ask him? and he’s not exactly standing around at your apartment to talk to you.” you note. 

sukuna shakes his head, almost like he’s dismissing the entire conversation away with one shake, before he crouches in front of the glass case of the pastries, eyeing them all one by one. you note that he’s pretty meticulous – at least with the order – because he starts rearranging all of them in a specific order. 

“i actually wanted to talk to you about something.” 

sukuna gives you a nod, almost like he’s indicating that you have his full attention, not diverting his eyes from the case. 

“well, what are we doing?” you whisper. 

“i’m rearranging the pastries because yuuji doesn’t know what alphabetical order means. you’re admiring me from a distance, very shamelessly i might add.” he notes. 

you bite down on your cheek, before crouching down to whisper properly. 

“i mean. you’re almost at the end of press. i basically pissed off jake and aimee like you said. aren’t we good to..i don’t know…fizzle out?” 

sukuna scunches up his face at the sound of your words. almost like he’s irritated you’d even position this in the first place. 

“are you seriously backing out because you’re scared?” he asks. 

“scared? what could i possibly have to be scared of?” 

he finally diverts his gaze from the case, retreating his hand back to his lap, and trying to discern the look on your face from his scrunched eyes. 

“you tell me. you’re the one who is backing out right now.” he murmurs. 

you clear your throat. 

“i don’t see a point.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“i can spend another time trying to convince you of the point. but trust me, you don’t want to go into the premiere party on friday without me. i got not one but two messages last night that weren’t exactly pleasant.” 

“what? from who?” 

“the pope.” he deadpans. 

“really?” 

“are you crazy? one from aimee telling me that she missed me. and one from jake telling me that i needed to be careful with you or else.” 

“what?” 

“exactly. they’re definitely not going to drop this. and at this point in time, it really wouldn’t make sense for us to do it either. i didn’t necessarily help your case by pissing him off at the basketball game and now i’m not just going to leave you defenseless.” 

“i’m not defens..” 

sukuna rolls his eyes, placing his hand flat on your cheek in efforts to silence you, as alina sticks a plate of the pie right on the counter where the two of you are standing. you note that she smiles at the two of you – almost double taking to observe how sukuna’s holding your cheek – before she walks away. 

you can feel your cheeks warm as he drops his hand, his soft touch retreating. he gives you a sweet smile, one that you don’t entirely understand, as he beckons for you to follow him, leading you the booth all the way at the end. 

you can see that yuuji is tending to the flowers that are in the box out front through the window, and that a few feet behind, megumi’s watching him very fondly as he continues to talk. sukuna follows your line of vision, before clearing his throat. 

“ten bucks megumi makes the first move.” 

“oh, you’re so full of shit. it’s either going to be yuuji or it’s never happening.” 

“oh ye of little faith. trust me, if anyone’s hopeless over there, it’s yuuji.” 

you scoff. 

“please. you don’t know anything about megumi” 

“and you know nothing about yuuji. he’s still convinced that megumi is straight.” he whispers. 

you widen your eyes. 

“is he serious?” you whisper. 

sukuna leans forward, close enough that you can smell the faintest whiff of his cologne. 

“don’t you think that this thing we’re doing is fun?” he whispers. 

you lean back, and he’s keen to follow, as he closed the distance between you two. you’re confused by the glint in his eye – that it’s filled with something that you can’t really place – as you lean back. 

“i’m not sure i follow, starfire.” 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“are you so daft, robin?” 

“it appears i am.” you deadpan. 

“you and i are telling people that we’re dating. presumably, most people think that we’re probably in love. and at this point in time, that’s a lie. it’s a lie that you know and it’s a lie that i know. and every time i do something to make it obvious – like touch your cheek or respond to something you say online – you seem really exasperated. you roll your eyes at me like you think i’m insane.” 

“and?” 

“i’ve made you an accomplice in my lie. our lie. and every time i do, you seem to shift a little. you don’t really meet my eyes – just like you wouldn’t the other day or even a few minutes ago in front of alina – and i swear you get a flush down your cheeks. it’s one of my favorite things about you.” 

you clear your throat. 

“and?” 

“and it’s because we’re around other people. we have a secret. one that’s just ours. and isn’t that the most intimate thing we can share?” 

“sukuna, you…” 

right at that second, megumi and yuuji slide into the other side of the booth, the latter of which spares you such a bright smile that you have to swallow down the lump in your throat that sukuna’s words just caused. they’re so loud that it nearly startles you, as you push farther away from sukuna and place your hand on the back of your neck – in futile attempts to hide the flush creeping down your neck that he was so fond of. 

sukuna shoots you a smile. you know exactly what it means. 

“hi y/n! i’m yuuji, i’m so excited to meet you!” he states. 

you smile, physically shaking your head to will the thought away, as you extend your hand out to him. nearly disoriented from the words sukuna had just said to you. 

“me too. i’ve heard so much about you.” you respond, noting that your voice very noticeably cracks as you awkwardly extend your hand out. 

it’s something that megumi seems to catch on to pretty fast, as he narrows his eyes at you from across the table. 

“what were you guys talking about? seemed pretty deep in thought there.” megumi asks, as he flips his fingers through the menu. 

“sorry, megumi. we can’t share. it’s a secret.” sukuna murmurs, taking the time to spare you a sweet smile.

--  

--

the next time you see sukuna is almost a week after, at the after party of the premiere. he’s stuck doing last minute press – and you’re too intimidated by whatever secret the two of you are sharing to reach out again – so you stop yourself from asking to see him again.  

you refrain from thinking about the implications of everything he said another time, about what it meant that jake and aimee messaged him, about how he wouldn’t leave you defenseless, and instead opt to watch the ice slowly melt in your glass from the corner. 

to try to figure out what sukuna’s going to spring on you next time – so at the very least, this time you can muster a response. which at this point felt like an entirely impossible pursuit. 

you stick to the same corner at the party, watching megumi from a distance. 

megumi was very clearly the star of the show. you were barely able to get a hold of him since the start of the party, when he was whisked off by his producer, and basically got bounced through every small group of people at the party. 

the closest you were to being near him was your current spot in the little bar, where you’re dead across from the big promotional poster they put behind the counter. 

“hey. are you having fun?” 

you turn to your left to find yuuji at your side, his normal exuberant energy slightly diminished, as he sends you a tired smile. you give him a nod, beckoning for him to take the seat next to you and slide over the leftover soda in your class. 

“not as much fun as you, superstar.” you state. 

“i can’t even feel my feet.” he groans. 

you smile. 

“well, this is just the first of many for you. you were great in the show.” you note. 

he offers you a smile, his face so expressive that you can almost physically see that he’s touched in the curve of his cheeks, as he looks up at the poster across from the two of you. 

“you know. it’s kind of weird. when i was making this show, i could tell that it was really important. in my head, i always knew that it was going to do well because it was special, because megumi and i were making something that i’d never even felt with another person before. but a part of me always put that away, because i was scared i was being arrogant.” 

you shake your head. 

“i feel that way when i write music sometimes. especially when lyrics are particularly scathing or…or personal. it’s almost like i know that it’s going to reach people because it’s something that really happened to me. but then i try to convince myself that i’m just saying that and it’s just a song, that it won’t really hit people, because i think i’m making it up sometimes.” 

you pause. 

“what i’m trying to say, probably in a really long winded way that definitely didn’t come across the way i intended, is that you’re not alone when you feel that. but you also should know that your performance was really good. i thought it was very touching.” 

yuuji smiles, almost faltering in his eyes a little bit, before he turns to you. you note that he seems particularly reserved, almost flighty from the way he’s twitching in his seat, as you scoot closer to him on the bench. 

“you know. my brother said that if i wanted to, i could ask you anything. and that you were so nice that you’d probably indulge and make me feel better.” 

you smile. 

“i’m flattered that he thinks i’m so nice. and he is right, you know. is there something i could help you with?” you ask. 

yuuji swallows hard. 

“do you love megumi?” he asks. 

“what?” 

“like love love him? because he mentioned to me in passing one time that the two of you used to date and i know that you guys are really close and was wondering if it was some like…weird years long situationship that was going on or something.” 

you nod. so that’s why he thought megumi was straight. 

“would it kill you if i gave you every little detail?” you ask. 

“well…” 

“i promise that it will make you feel better.” 

“okay.” 

you smile, swiveling your chair and scooting closer, to lower your voice, at least to the point where he could still hear you. 

“i met megumi when i was in the third grade. and really, i can’t even explain how we became friends.”

“what?” 

you shrug. 

“i feel like everyone else i know, even with other friends of mine, i’m able to remember exactly when i met them. the exact moment that i realized that they were special or that i really liked them. but i can’t even remember where i met megumi. all i know is that as long as i can remember, he’s always been around. always been in my corner when i needed him.” 

yuuji smiles.  

“when we reached sixth grade, he asked me to be his girlfriend. and i said yeah, because i figured if anyone was going to be my boyfriend, it had to be him. it seemed almost natural at that point. it was that weird age where people started segregating awkwardly, asking each other to dances and…people already thought we were together to begin with. i didn’t talk to other boys. i didn’t even talk to other people. if i was going to entertain the thought of someone, they only person i could even tolerate long enough was megumi. so it was going to be him.”  

“there was a day after school where we were both waiting for our parents. both of our dads were kind of fickle in that way, never really came on time to pick us up, amongst other things. and he just asked me if i wanted to kiss him. and i did. and he bursted out into tears after the fact.” 

“what?” 

you look back over your shoulder, where he’s slung across satoru’s shoulder and giving him a disgusted glare, before you turn back and smile. 

“loud tears. like…snot filled tears. for a split second, i thought i bit him or something and just did it wrong.” 

“but?” 

you grin. 

“but he told me that i was his favorite person in the world. that there was one that he liked as much as me. and that if he kissed me and felt nothing, he wasn’t going to ever feel anything when he kissed a girl.” 

you can see the relief in yuuji’s face, that it’s almost instantaneous in the way that he smiles and the relaxation spreading in his shoulders. you reach forward, wrapping your hands around his wrist and squeezing once. 

“what did you say after that?” he asked. 

“i told him that it wasn’t a big deal that he didn’t like kissing girls. that i didn’t even really think i wanted to kiss anyone when i grew up. i was pretty morbid at that time, sixth grade and all, so we both just went about it. nothing really changed after the fact.” you respond. 

yuuji smiles, before awkwardly wincing. 

“i’m sorry for asking. that’s actually kind of embarrassing, but i couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. and it makes more sense because…well, megumi told me about his dad. about how you were the only family that he had and that no one would compare to you.” 

you smile. 

“it’s less of a romantic thing than you think. there was a time where we both lived in a studio apartment, by ourselves, and barely made ends meet.” 

yuuji nods. 

“he told me about that. the thing with his dad. and with your…” 

yuuji almost pauses. he catches himself before confessing what it is that he knows about you – what you’re assuming is the secret that he was asked to keep. 

“you know, your brother is right. if you ever want to ask me something, you can just ask.” 

yuuji smiles. 

“i don’t want to impose. you’re very special to megumi and he’s very special to me, so..i’d do whatever i can. if you ever need my help with anything. maybe you guys could let me in on your little family thing too. for you i mean. i’m kind of great at that type of thing.” 

you reach forward and put your hand in his. 

“i’ll take you up on that offer one day, okay?” 

you clear your throat. 

“did sukuna have fun?” you ask. 

“has he not been around? i’m sure he feels horrible, but his agent is really a stickler about networking at stuff like this.” 

you shake your head. 

“i don’t mind. i fully understand, i was just wondering. in general, if he had a good time at his first premiere.” 

yuuji smiles. 

“this is a really big deal to him.” he murmurs. 

“i can imagine. biggest premiere of your career, especially considering your background and all.” 

yuuji and sukuna – and even their brother and sister-in-law – were one of a kind that way. actors who had no previous background, no connections, to rely on when they made their way through. 

“yeah. and it’s all because of sukuna too, mind you.” 

you feel an insistent tapping on your shoulder, only to find jake standing at your side, eyes wide and frantic. you can’t help but immediately grimace, taking a split second to shoot yuuji a glare, who understands almost instantaneously. 

“i would get up and leave if i were you.” he murmurs. 

you glare at him. 

“and why would i leave?” you ask. 

“aimee had a lot to drink. and we were arguing a lot, about some stuff. and now she’s like thirty seconds away from reaching the counter to scream at you probably.” he whispers. 

“and what could i do to be so deserving of a screaming match?” you ask. 

jake frowns. 

“maybe i said some stuff. made some comparisons, but that’s besides the point.” he states. 

you look past his shoulder, nearly bumping your head into yuuji’s to find that jake’s not lying in the slightest, and slowly but surely, aimee is side stepping her way towards where you’re standing. 

that was one of the scariest things about her. that drinking alcohol didn’t seem to do what it did to everyone else – she didn’t excessively laugh or overshare or tell people they were beautiful in a dirty bathroom. 

she took it as an opportunity to be ruthlessly mean. say what was really on her mind. 

you turn to yuuji, shooting him an awkward smile, before leaning closer. 

“could you grab megumi? or his car keys? i think it might be time for me to go and i came in his car.” you murmur. 

“i’ll bring him back later, don’t worry about it.” he state. 

yuuji’s quick to run off, almost embarrassingly fast, as you turn back to jake, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“what are you still doing here?” you mutter. 

“i don’t know. trying to make sure you leave before she gets over here.” 

“don’t worry. i don’t need your empty concern for me. especially, when you’re the one who put me in this situation.” 

“oh, don’t be like that. things…things escalated really fast. and not in the way that i wanted and you should know that…” 

“i didn’t even realize that you were still friends with her. that you even talked let alone…did god knows what when we were together.” 

“it jus happened.” 

you roll your eyes at him, making every effort to push past him towards the door. but it’s right at that minute that aimee reaches the chair where you’re sitting, and you swallow hard to brace yourself for whatever it is that she’s going to say. 

“y/n.” 

“i’d watch what i was going to say if i were you. you’ve had a lot to drink.” sukuna states, the tone in his voice is so firm that it nearly makes you shudder. 

a demeanor that you have yet to see. possibly another secret. 

“sukuna.” 

“don’t worry. we’re leaving.” he states, reaching for the coat that’s slung behind the back of your chair and tucking it into his arm. 

“i’m so glad that you’re here for this. i was actually just going to tell y/n here that the two of you are perfect for each other.” aimee states. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

you step back as she moves closer, noting that sukuna’s hand is hovering behind you, on the lower part of your back. almost precautionary. 

“your piece of shit junkie dad is the reason you won’t give in to anyone for real. you couldn’t win in a relationship even if you tried.” 

you swallow hard. 

“what the hell did you just say to me?” 

“i said that your junkie dad is going to follow you around until the day you die. hell, i bet even to this day, you’re still going home once in a while and digging him out of the hole that he put himself in. standing right there with him. stuck in the fact that that’s where you came from. where you’ll always be from. every single shitty lie that you tell and every person that you cross should be a reminder – there’s no difference between you and him.” 

sukuna looks down at you, eyes almost wide, before she looks over at him. 

“and you. you won’t ever be enough for her. but you know that already don’t you? you’re a chronic flight risk – because deep down, you know there’s nothing about you that’s even likeable in the first place. couple that with the fact that your heart is quite literally nonfunctional, well.” 

she takes a deep breath in. 

 “you’re a match made in heaven.” she finishes. 

you’re the one who lunges first.  

--

you don’t remember the rest of the conversation. only the fact that sukuna dragged you out of there, that you were sitting in his car with freezing cold air blowing in your face, and his hand  was intertwined in yours on your lap. 

you look down, the words echoing in your head – every single one of them – as you note the calloused skin on his knuckles. a burn over the middle and ring knuckle. you run your finger over it, earning you a hiss from sukuna as you turn over to apologize. 

“oh, i’m sorry.” you murmur. 

“not your fault. i was trying to take the coffee out too fast the other day. skin’s still sensitive.” 

you nod. the two of you return to the silence, the pale glow of the streetlights reflecting across both of your faces, basking the entire car in an almost dim red. you place your other hand on his, cradling the free hand that he offered you in both of yours, and look down. 

“i hate to interrupt whatever it is that’s running through your mind, but do you want me to take you to yours? or are you okay being at mine?” 

you shake your head. 

“mine. please.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“you don’t have to beg, you know?” 

you scoff. 

“how was that begging?” 

“please.” he mimics, the tone in his voice so shrill that it almost makes you laugh.

“i don’t even sound like that.” 

“well, to me,  you do. you’ll just have to point me in the right direction to yours okay.” 

you nod, sinking down into the chair, as you look ahead at the empty streets. there’s no one even parked on the sides, the pale moonlight reflecting against the windows of the building as you ride in silence. 

sukuna’s driving slow. what you’re assuming is uncharacteristically slow, because it feels like he spares every free second that he has to look over at where you’re sitting, like he’s almost trying to figure out what to do next. 

“do you want to stay when we get to my house?” you ask. 

“stay where?” he asks. 

you shrug. 

“with me?” you ask. 

“oh. i can stay. i’d love to stay.” he corrects. 

“don’t get too excited now.” you state. 

sukuna has a whisper of a smile on his face. 

“i can stay. i just…i have something i have to do tomorrow, if i can do it at your place.” 

“what’s that?”

sukuna clears his throat. 

“i need to redye my hair before i go to the awards show on sunday. the pink is sort of fading into white at this point, which is what i wanted for the premiere, but now i need to refresh it. maybe you can help me.” 

you give him a quiet nod. and wonder if you’ll regret letting him stay in the morning. 

--

--

an: everyone thank user @/paperphytes for commenting on dream girl three times over the span of like four months and asking me to update. third time was a charm apparently. anyways next chapter is called juno HEHEHEH

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @thepurpleempath @shrimphutao4ever @monic19 @najaemism @haitanibros0007 @catobsessedlady @luvs4kim @ri-sa20 @thejujvtsupost @invisible-mori @satoruslipbalm @kyo-kyo1 @telepathicheartss @huhsthccvjh @sxnkuna @w31rdg1rl @lilalia3945 @multiplefandomthings @shotovhs @voids-universe @timetobegone @deeeeexx @livelovelaughisagiyochi @pelicanpizza @cowgirlikets @jeon-blue @phantomasmaniac @yoontaedotin @cowgirlikets @estrella-novella @theauthorunicorn @catastayy @ryumurin @kindadolly @th0tformikasa @r0ckst4rjk @you-always-made-me-blush

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Love To Watch You Leave: Part 3

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Bullying, Eventual Smut, Grieving, Pining, Alcohol, Military Inaccuracies

- Part 2 Here -

———————————

18+ Only

———————————

You and Bradley sat on your porch with a notepad and pen that Thursday, your legs crossed as you swung on the hanging bench and Bradley’s dangling as he balanced on the porch railing.




“Ok, soooo… rule number one can be, no kissing?” You suggested.




Bradley thought about it for a second, “Won’t that seem suspicious?” He asked.




You shrugged, “No I don’t think so, a lot of people don’t kiss in public.”




“Not even a little peck, just for show?” He made kissing sounds, his eyes closed as he leaned towards you.




You grimaced, your flat palm landing on his face and shoving him away.




“Stop messing around.”




“Jeez, sorry. Is it the moustache? I can shave it if you like.” You knew he was joking, but you were beginning to notice that adult Bradley wasn’t quite as unbearable or awful as young Bradley had been. That didn’t change the fact that you held some animosity for how he’d treated you. He still hasn’t apologised after all.




You gave him an exasperated look.




“Okay, okay… what’s rule number 2?” He held his hands up in defeat.




You tapped your pen against the note pad, “How about no talking badly about each other behind our backs? We’ve got to act like an actual couple after all, so don’t be too gooey, but… just say nice things?”




Bradley nodded, “To an extent. I mean normal couples still have their gripes. Like ‘oh he snores too much’ or ‘she spends all my money on shoes’.”




You wrote that down, “Yeah that’s true, ok so we’ll just be reasonable, but nothing too harsh, okay? We don’t wanna be ruining each others reputations.”




The two of you spent the next hour or so jotting down rules, and then Bradley got up to go home and pack last minute. He bounced down the steps and then turned back to look at you.




He had a small grin on his face, “So… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘babe’?”




You couldn’t help but grin, “Don’t be late, ‘honey’.”




——————————




The next day rolled around quickly, and you sprung out of bed and got yourself ready for the weekend ahead.




The drive was a good hour and a half so you threw on a t-shirt, your softest grey sweatshirt, some cycling shorts and your comfy white tennis shoes. You could change once you got there, but you didn’t want to get stuck in traffic wearing some uncomfortable dress.




After some light makeup, you brushed your teeth and your hair and put your bags by the front door.




“I’ll say bye now, mom. Bradley should be over in a few minutes.” You said, as she sat reading her book on the couch.




“Ok my love, have a good weekend. Let me know when you get there?”




You gave her a kiss on her head and squeezed her arm, “Will do. Love you mom.”




“Love you more!”




Bradley was only 2 minutes late, likely having overslept slightly, his hair still mussed and his voice deep and scratchy.




“Hey, sorry. Where are your bags?” He said, flustered as he jogged up the steps.




You grabbed them and handed one to Bradley.




Bradley held his other hand out for the second bag.




“I can take this one.” You insisted.




“No, starting now I’m your boyfriend, so… let me take your bags.” He held his palm out.




“Technically you’re not my boyfriend for another hour and a half, but… thank you.” You handed him the second bag and followed him to the Bronco.




The drive was mostly silent, but you preferred it that way. You liked to just listen to the music blaring over the radio while you watched the stunning scenery as you drove along the coast.




Every 10 minutes or so, one of you would say something along the lines of “can I skip this song?” Or “did you remember to pack your toothbrush?”




Eventually you pulled up outside of a huge beach house, made up of the larger main house and a second (still pretty large) guest house. It was surrounded by a sprawling green lawn that lead to a small cliff, the beach and ocean only a short few steps down the side.




“Wow.” You breathed, “I’m really nervous now.”




“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Bradley murmured as he looked up at the house.




“Ok, as soon as we step out of this car, we have to be nice to one another, got it?” You eyed him up.




“Yes, unfortunately.”




Climbing out of the car, you looked around at the many guests who had already arrived, sipping morning mimosas on the lawn and mingling, your stomach began to bubble with nerves.




Bradley grabbed all of the bags from the car just as the front door swung open.




Lieutenant Commander Harris came bounding down the front steps excitedly.




“Ah! My friends, how good to see you! Leave those, we’ll handle the bags. Go and grab yourself a drink.” He shook Bradley’s hand and pulled you in for a hug, far more friendly than you remembered.




You and Bradley stood awkwardly apart, and Harris eyed you up for a moment.




Suddenly Bradley remembered and he quickly stepped towards you, a heavy arm wrapping around your shoulder. You forced a smile and wrapped an arm around Bradley’s waist.




“Thank you again for having us! We’re very excited to meet everyone.” You lied.




Harris and what you could only imagine was either his Butler or a Caterer grabbed your bags, and he grinned up at you. “It’s going to be a great party! I’ll catch up with you both shortly.” And with that he disappeared into the guest house, leaving you and Bradley awkwardly holding one another.




“Let’s get this over with.” You sighed.




———————————




The first few hours passed without much incident. You and Bradley hadn’t had to touch each other much thanks to having to meet so many new people. Most of the morning compromised of walking around and introducing yourself to people and chit chatting in between mimosas. By lunch time, everyone had been seated at a very long table, all of the men on the one side and the women on the other, so you hadn’t had to keep up appearances then either. It was only by mid afternoon that you had to start acting.




Everyone had spread out on the lawn with more people arriving every hour, and after several drinks and different levels of drunkenness, people started to probe.




“So how long have you two been together?” Someone had asked.




“Uhh…” you hadn’t discussed your back story, shit.




You and Bradley answered at the same time.




“3 months-“

“-6 months.”




You looked at one another in horror, then Bradley chuckled, pulling you into his side.




“No, you’re right honey, I always lose track of time. 6 months.” He confirmed with a smile.




“Oh how adorable! So still in the honeymoon phase, huh?” The woman winked.




You laughed uncomfortably, “Yeah, we just… can’t get enough.”




Once the woman had left, you took a breather, “That was close. Maybe we should come up with a back story?”




“Yeah, how about-“ but Bradley was quickly interrupted as more people began to speak to you, and again the same arm came to wrap around your shoulder and the lies began to flow, you were worried you would lose track.




You excused yourself to go and grab a couple of drinks from the beverage table, leaving Bradley to mingle. You breathed out a heavy sigh under the bright decorative lighting, your nerves set, and you quickly downed a glass of white wine, grimacing at the taste but relishing the warmth that spread through you, before pouring another for sipping and grabbing Bradley a bottle of beer. You were about to turn around, when you heard the most grating voice you think you’ve ever had the displeasure of hearing. A super high pitched, squeaky giggle followed by, “Oh my lord, Bradley! What are you doing here?”




You turned around, already annoyed to find a stunning red head hanging off of Bradley’s arm. His face a picture of ‘oh hell, how do I get out of this’.




“Hey, Angie.” He pulled his arm from her tight grasp, his eyes shooting over to you.




You took the hint to hurry up and quickly walked over, handing Bradley his beer.




None of you said anything for a second, until Bradley stepped purposefully on your foot.




“Uh. Hey, honey. Who’s your friend?” You stumbled out.




“Y/N, sweetheart, this is Angie, my ex that I was telling you about?” He clenched his jaw.




Suddenly you felt hot, tiny tendrils of… jealously? No, annoyance, taking a hold of you.




“Ah yes, Annie-“




“Angie.” She corrected, her toothy smile all but gone now.




“Angie. Nice to finally meet you.” Your fake smile honed to perfection now. “Bradley has told me all about you.”




Awkward silence filled the air.




You nodded, “So… I guess we should probably go and change, right my… love?” Ooph, that one was more of a struggle to get out.




“Yes, you’re right! Almost forgot we were still in our peasant clothes.” He joked nervously.




You rolled your eyes as you turned around, taking Bradley’s hand and pulling him behind you towards the guest house, as Angie watched you disappear, an indiscernible look on her face.




As soon as you were inside your assigned bedroom, you slammed the door shut and pressed your back up against it.




“Ok that was a disaster. We need to get our story straight.” You planted a hand over your eyes as you panted anxiously.




“Hey, calm down, it wasn’t that bad.”

Bradley chuckled, walking up to you and pulling you in for a hug. Your face was buried in his chest, you calmed down for just a second, before realising how weird this was.




You pushed him off of you, “Why are you hugging me? We don’t hug.”




“Sorry, force of habit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.




“Let’s just get showered and changed, hopefully everyone will be too drunk to notice our shoddy lies when we get back.”




You both took turns showering, and you slipped into your stunning yellow dress, redoing your makeup and hair.




Bradley stepped out of the bathroom in a billow of steam, towel wrapped around his waist.




You couldn’t help but stare at his wet pecks, and how drops of water trailed down into his v-line. You hadn’t realised how well Bradley had aged until now.




“You’re staring.” He smirked.




“Am not. Just wondering what kind of a state you’ve left the bathroom in.”




“Well, you look nice, you always did love yellow.” He stated, grabbing his dress pants and white shirt off the bed.




“And you know that how?” You chuckled, looking at him in the mirror as you swiped on some mascara.




“You always wore it, and your mom mentioned it once, I guess.”




You stood up straight and turned to face him, “Nice of you to remember. This doesn’t look too much?”




He shook his head, “No, you’ll fit right in. Your straps are uneven though.”




“Oh?” You tried to get a look over your shoulder but your view was obstructed and the mirror was too high to offer much help.




“Here, let me.” He said walking behind you. As he moved your hair over your shoulder, his fingers brushed softly against your skin, and again as he adjusted your dress straps, and you swore you felt the back of his knuckle gently brush down the length of your exposed back. You drew a sharp breath, annoyed that it had filled you with the tiniest amount of curiosity and pleasure.




“All done.” He said softly in your ear.




“Thanks.” You smiled awkwardly, turning to face him. “You’d better hurry up and get dressed, we’re gonna be late for dinner.”




Bradley nodded, taking a step back, “Just give me 5 minutes.”




——————————




Bradley was true to his word, and 5 minutes later he emerged from the bathroom. He looked handsome, you couldn’t deny it. He definitely wasn’t the lanky, dark haired, pale boy you hated throughout your childhood. At least not on the outside.




“You clean up good, Bradshaw.” You smiled, sticking your elbow out.




“Thanks ‘honey’, shall we get out there and lie our pants off?” He grinned, hooking his arm into yours.




“Please, please keep your pants on.”




Outside it had now gotten dark, and mostly everyone was dressed in their lovely evening attire, even the pretty red head with the annoying voice.




“Oh there you two are! I was starting to get lonely.” She pouted dramatically, hooking her arm through Bradley’s. Her red dress beautifully complimented her hair, you felt the slightest tinge of jealously, but quickly remembered Bradley wasn’t even yours in the first place.




“I’m just gonna go and top up our drinks.” You excused yourself and hurried away, unsure you could keep a straight face around Angie.




You could hear her giggling and chatting away, and you tried hard to busy yourself.




You suddenly felt a gentle bump into your side, and you looked up to see a very apologetic bespectacled man.




“Oh I’m so sorry ma’am! I… I didn’t see you, I think maybe I’ve had too many of these mimosas.” His slight Southern twang coming through.




You chuckled softly as you straightened up, “That’s okay, how many have you had?” You asked, your hand shooting out to steady him as he wobbled slightly.




“Three.” He replied sheepishly, his cute face scrunching up under his glasses.




“Is that all?” You giggled, “Want some water?” You began to pour some in a glass for him.




“Thank you. Probably a good idea. I don’t usually drink much, if you can’t already tell.” He took the glass from you and began sipping.




“I’m Bob. Sorry for bumping into you.” He said again, sticking out a hand.




You shook it, “I’m Y/N. It’s really no problem.”




Bradley suddenly appeared in between you and Bob, his arm wrapping around your satin waist.




“Hey beautiful, need a hand with our drinks?” He said a fraction louder than he needed to.




“Err… yeah, please.” You handed his drink to him, and you picked up two glasses of wine, one of which you’d give to Angie just to keep her mouth busy so she’d shut up.




“Nice to meet you Bob.” You smiled at him as Bradley lured you away, his big hand sprawled protectively across your lower back.




“And you!” Bob called, “Nice to see you again, Rooster.”




Bradley ignored him, and you looked up at his stoney expression with confusion.




“You know him? He’s cute. Maybe you can introduce us when this is all over.” You grinned playfully.




“No.” Bradley mumbled.




You stopped dead in your tracks, causing Bradley to do the same.




“What’s up with you, Brad?” You asked, looking up at him, holding out the glasses in your hands awkwardly.




“You’re not acting like a particularly good girlfriend right now, Y/N.”




“So? We’re breaking up tomorrow, remember? Plus, I’ve not been nearly as bad as you, with her hanging off of you since we got down here.”




“That’s not the point.” He said taking you by the crease of your arm and pulling you to a quiet corner of the lawn.




“Forget about Angie, I don’t care about her. We really need to make this believable, at least just for tonight. For the sake of our careers.” He was now towering over you, his head stooped low as he whispered.




“Okay. What do you want to do?” You whispered back. You could smell his cologne.




“Can we pretend to be more in love or something?” He smelt so good.




You nodded, “Yeah, okay. How?”




“I have an idea, do you trust me? I might need to break a rule.” This immediately snapped you out of the weird little trance you were in.




“Wait, which rule?”




Bradley took your wine glasses and put them on a nearby table with his beer bottle, then he returned and took your hand, pulling you out to the edge of the cliff.




“Which rule, Bradley? You aren’t going to throw me to my death, are you?” You were suddenly a little anxious, had this all just been a big ploy to exact his evil plan and get rid of you once and for all? Was he still just the same Bradley as before?




When he ignored you and came to stand on the small cliff edge, your heart began to race. “Seriously, what are you gonna do?”




He turned to face you with a small grin, “Just wait until more people look over and then… just trust me.”




Weirdly, despite everything, you sort of did trust him, so you nodded.




Bradley waited, and he watched over your shoulder, waiting for just the right amount of witnesses. He waited some more.




Just as you were getting fed up with waiting, Bradley’s big hands came up to cup your face, and you gulped.




Stooping over you, he dipped his head slowly and his full, soft lips landed on yours.




You gasped, probably audibly, but quickly you relaxed into it, realising it really wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be kissing Bradley.




After a few seconds, he pulled away just a fraction. “You need to move, people are gonna think I’m kissing a corpse.” He mumbled, a slight grin on his face. You realised you had been so surprised you hadn’t moved your arms and they lay by your side, dangling.




He pressed his lips back to yours, and you moved your arms to wrap around his neck as he leaned you back slightly.




There was some cat calling and whistling from the people out on the lawn, and one “Ohhh how romantic!”




Your face began to flush in embarrassment, so you pulled away and smoothed your dress out, before clearing your throat.




You looked at Bradley and nodded, “Thanks.”




You began to walk back to the party with Bradley on your tail, “Thanks?” He smirked.




“Yup, that’ll do it.” You flushed awkwardly, you couldn’t believe you had just kissed your life long nemesis, and what’s worse is that it really wasn’t bad, at all.




You quickly downed another glass of wine, hoping for a little Dutch courage. Bradley eyed you up and was just about to say something, when someone called him over. He looked at you once more, before he excused himself and you nodded, sort of relieved.




You turned to eye up the second drink, your legs somewhat wobbly from the breathtaking kiss, when Angie practically sprinted over to you, her face a mixture of anxiety and remorse.




You looked at her with wide eyes, surprised.




“Girl, I really really need to talk to you. In private.”




——————————




- Part 4 Here -

Taglist (please let me know if you wish to be added for future chapters):

@flowery-mess

@wildxwidow

[dostoyevsky-official]

The Courts Can’t Stop the Trump-Musk Coup

Many of Trump’s orders are illegal, and unconstitutional, and brazenly so. Most good-faith lawyers can see that, but “good faith” does not describe the current state of the federal judiciary. Trump and MAGA have captured and corrupted the courts: They have seeded the lower courts with federal judges more loyal to Trump and his white-supremacist movement than they are to the law. They have stacked the Supreme Court with justices hostile to civil rights and equality. This doesn’t mean that cases brought by the ACLU, AFL-CIO, or Democratic state attorneys general are destined to fail. Their cases are righteous (and, legally speaking, right) and must be brought. Some might even succeed.

But the courts will not “save” us. They will not be the backstop protecting us from the Trump-Musk takeover, and any person who tells you otherwise, especially if that person is an elected Democrat in Congress, is selling you an excuse for inaction and complacency. Trump and Musk are barbarians at the gate; calling in the lawyers to tell them they’re trespassing isn’t going to halt their advance. Courts are not known for their harm prevention—they’re best used when trying to hold someone accountable for the harm they already caused.

The most obvious reason for this is that the courts move slowly. They are designed to move slowly. [...] If we’re very lucky, in a year or two we’ll get final rulings on whether Trump is allowed to do the bad things he started doing two weeks ago.

[...] The quickest tools the courts have at their disposal is the “temporary restraining order” (aka “TRO”) and the “nationwide injunction.” You’ve likely heard these terms before. These are temporary orders issued by a court that purportedly prevent the implementation of new laws or policies pending a full trial (or hearing) and ruling on the “merits” of a legal challenge. Often, these temporary orders themselves are appealed all the way to the Supreme Court (which potentially delays the timeliness of these emergency actions), with the administration trying to lift the temporary stops so it can implement its policies while the courts sort out whether the policy is legal.

[...] In theory, these orders should be effective stopgaps. The problem is that the court has no enforcement mechanism. It has no army, no police force, no power to impose its will. Instead, the executive—in this case the president—is supposed to enforce the court’s orders. But what if Trump doesn’t? There is little reason to believe that Trump will enforce an adverse court ruling against himself. There is no reason to believe he’ll enforce one against Musk. He’s clearly not interested in enforcing the court order (and, you know, the entire piece of legislation passed by Congress and signed by his predecessor) against TikTok.

[...] Consider the constitutional crisis unfolding right now. Musk has reportedly seized access to the private information of every US taxpayer, and the payroll information of every government employee. He has no right to this information but… he has it. Who’s going to undo that damage? A court order released Thursday afternoon purportedly limited Musk’s access to Treasury files to two “special employees” with “read-only” access to the data. Musk has reportedly agreed to follow those rules. Who is going to make sure he does? Who is going to lead the crack team of forensic digital investigators to make sure that Musk is in compliance with this or any future court order? My guess is “no one.” Musk currently has a stranglehold on the government, and enforcement of his limitations is going to run on the “trust me, bro” system.

[...]There are any number of Trump orders that this Supreme Court is going to rubber-stamp, all while promoting the conservatives’ “unitary executive theory” that grants the president powers more commonly associated with those of a king. As we’ve already seen with the court’s decision to grant Trump immunity from criminal prosecution for official acts, Roberts and his co-conspirators have pre-decided that the best way to handle Trump is to ride it out, generally give him what he wants, and accrue as much power for themselves as possible. Power that they’ll be happy to redeploy once he’s gone and they are again dealing with an executive who will faithfully enforce their orders, like literally any sad-sack Democrat who ever manages to win election again.

I’m not saying that the courts do not matter. As I said, some good decisions will squeak through. [...] But the courts will not save us. Even a friendly court is not designed to save democracy from a democratically elected president, and most courts are not our friends to begin with.

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up, buttercups! 💕

Alrighty, chapter four is here, and I promise we’re spicing things up very soon! Some of you have even written me, asking when things will happen—soon, my loves, soooon 🙈

So, this chapter is all about setting the tone, laying the groundwork, and adding just the right amount of tension before things really start to heat up 😉🔥

Happy reading, my darlings! 😘💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language

Word count: 6.7k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Four: Game On

::

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Can it be true? Auston Matthews and his enigmatic Queen, spotted on a walk yesterday that nearly blurred the line between staged and sincere? The city is still buzzing from the sighting. It almost seemed close to romantic—dare we say, genuine?

But tonight brings a new chapter. Will we see her face among the sea of blue and white at the Scotiabank Arena, cheering on her King? Or will she remain hidden, a shadow in this carefully crafted narrative? Tell us, Mr. Matthews, are you embarrassed by your newly caught feelings? Is our Ice King unused to wearing his emotions for the world to see?

For tonight’s game, we hope to see the Leafs at their very best. Nylander will need to flex his skills to keep up with the Captain. Lorentz still has time to make his mark on the scoreboard, and Domi—well, he’s overdue for a standout performance. And what about the crease? Will Joseph Woll hold the net, or will we see Anthony Stolarz step up?

One thing’s for sure—this match against the Blues will have us glued to our screens. And who knows? If the Queen does make an appearance, maybe—just maybe—she’ll be the Leafs’ new lucky charm.

Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Thursday -

The faint smell of wine and takeout filled the air, courtesy of your early dinner with Jess, who was perched on the edge of your bed, sipping from a glass of Chardonnay and eyeing your wardrobe with the precision of a general planning an attack.

“Okay, this is a big night,” she announced, setting her glass on your nightstand with a decisive clink. “First impression in Auston Matthews’s world. We need you looking sexy but chill. Confident but not over-the-top. Like… the kind of girl who doesn’t need to try, even though you’re trying.”

You groaned, sprawled out on the bed beside her with your own glass of wine in hand. “Jess, it’s not that serious. It’s just a game.”

She turned to give you a pointed look, arching a brow. “Not that serious? You’re about to be seen at a hockey home game in Toronto with Auston Matthews. The Auston Matthews. You can’t just show up in, like, leggings and a hoodie.”

“Leggings and a hoodie sound amazing, though,” you joked, though your voice lacked conviction. The nerves bubbling beneath the surface were hard to ignore, even with the wine taking some of the edge off.

Jess wasn’t having it. “No way. Tonight, you’re walking into that arena looking like the kind of woman who belongs in the spotlight. Trust me on this.”

You sighed, sitting up and taking a long sip of your wine. You briefly had to remind yourself, Jess didn’t know the truth about your arrangement with Auston—she thought this was just you, her perpetually overthinking best friend, taking a chance on a guy you weren’t entirely sure about. And because of that, she was determined to support you in the best way she knew how: with wine, fashion advice, and an endless stream of hype.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, setting your glass aside. “What’s the plan?”

Jess’s eyes lit up as she leapt off the bed and flung open your closet doors. “Finally, you’re listening to me. Okay, so…” She rifled through the hangers, pulling out options and tossing them onto the bed with abandon. “Black fitted jeans—because they’re classic and make your legs look amazing. This top—simple but shows just enough skin. And…” She paused dramatically, reaching for the leather jacket she’d brought over herself. “This. You’ll look like a total badass.”

You eyed the pile sceptically. “Isn’t this a little much for a hockey game?”

Jess gave an exaggerated sigh, spinning to face you with her hands on her hips. “Y/N, you’re not just going to a hockey game. You’re going to a hockey game as Auston Matthews’s potential date. Do you understand the difference?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Fine. But only because you’re so insistent.”

She grinned triumphantly, shoving the outfit into your hands. “Go put it on. I need to see how it looks.”

As you changed in the bathroom, the reality of the night ahead settled in. You stared at your reflection, smoothing the fabric of the top and adjusting the jacket. Jess’s choices were undeniably flattering—she had a knack for knowing what worked. You looked confident, polished, and maybe even a little sexy. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just another part of the act.

When you stepped back into the room, Jess let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. You’re gonna knock him dead.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you smoothed the jacket. “It’s just a game, Jess.”

She stepped closer, her expression softening as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s not just a game. You’re putting yourself out there, and that’s huge. I know you’re nervous but trust me—he’s going to take one look at you and forget how to skate.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re amazing,” Jess countered, grabbing her wine glass and raising it in a toast. “To new beginnings, hot hockey players, and you finally letting yourself have some fun.”

You clinked glasses with her, the warmth of her encouragement easing some of your nerves. As much as you hated lying to her about the truth of your arrangement with Auston, you couldn’t deny that her belief in you made it easier to face the night ahead.

“Thanks, Jess,” you said softly, offering her a small smile.

“Anytime, babe,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine. “Now, go out there and own it.”

You weren’t sure if you believed her, but as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, you decided to try. After all, you had a role to play—and Jess was making sure you looked damn good doing it.

_

The Scotiabank Arena towered before you, its massive sign glowing against the darkening Toronto skyline. The hum of the city surrounded you, a mix of muffled conversations, car horns, and the occasional cheer from a passing Leafs fan. Despite Jess’s earlier pep talk and her enthusiastic assurance that you looked “effortlessly stunning,” the butterflies in your stomach were relentless.

This wasn’t your first time at the arena—not by a long shot. You’d been here a few times for work, navigating its corridors and dealing with its buzzing energy. But tonight felt different. It was the first time you were here as a spectator, not a professional. The first time you were walking through these doors without the shield of a clipboard or a press pass. And, more importantly, the first time you were walking in as Auston Matthews’ guest.

You paused at the private entrance Auston had directed you to, smoothing your leather jacket nervously. His instructions had been straightforward: head here, and someone would meet you. He’d arrive separately with the team, as per their routine. He’d assured you it would go smoothly, but as you stood there, surrounded by a handful of stylishly dressed women who clearly belonged, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider.

The door opened, and a woman stepped out, her confident stride and warm smile immediately drawing your attention. Aryne, John Tavares’ wife, you realised, recognising her from photos and media coverage. She exuded an effortless charm, her tailored coat draped perfectly over her shoulders and her makeup understated yet flawless.

“You must be Y/N!” Aryne said, her voice light and welcoming as she approached you. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a quick, friendly hug, her warmth immediately cutting through some of your nerves. “Auston told us you’d be here tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, returning the hug with a tentative smile. “Thanks for letting me… uh, crash the party.”

Aryne laughed, waving off your comment as if it were absurd. “You’re not crashing anything. Trust me, it’s nice to have someone new around. Plus, Auston seemed pretty insistent that you’d fit right in.”

Her words eased the tightness in your chest slightly, though the mention of Auston made your cheeks warm. Aryne motioned for you to follow her inside, leading you down a hallway and into a lounge area where a few of the other partners and family members were gathered.

“Ladies,” Aryne announced, her tone playful, “this is Y/N. Auston’s…” She paused, giving you a cheeky grin. “New friend.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again. The women turned to greet you, their smiles genuine, though you could sense the curiosity behind their polite expressions.

“Hi,” you said, offering a small wave as you stepped into the room.

One of the women, Stephanie Marner, was the first to speak. She leaned back in her chair, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she regarded you with an amused smile. “So, you and Auston, huh?” she teased, her tone light but curious.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Uh… yeah,” you said finally, feeling your cheeks flush. “We’re… still getting to know each other.”

Tessa Virtue, Morgan Rielly’s wife, swooped in, saving you with a grin. “Don’t let them scare you,” she said, giving Stephanie a playful nudge. “We all had to go through this initiation phase, too.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself smiling despite your nerves. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension easing as the women began to chat about the game, their partners, and their plans for the weekend. Their excitement was infectious, and though you still felt a little out of place, their warmth made it easier to relax. Plus, there were snacks for you to enjoy. Which made it oddly comforting. 

And just as the group prepared to head to the suite, Aryne handed you a Toronto Maple Leafs cap with a knowing look.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you. “You can’t sit in the stands without repping the team.”

You hesitated, glancing at the cap as if it might bite you. “I don’t know… I mean, isn’t this kind of…?”

Aryne rolled her eyes, smiling. “Come on. Consider it part of the experience. Plus, you’ll look great in it.”

The others chimed in with playful encouragement, and, reluctantly, you took the cap, sliding it on and adjusting it over your hair. The group cheered like you’d just scored a goal yourself, their playful energy infectious.

“Perfect,” Aryne said, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe—just maybe—you could actually blend in. As you followed the group toward the suite, the buzz of the arena growing louder with each step, you decided to let yourself enjoy the moment, nerves, and all. After all, if Auston could play it cool, so could you.

The suite was an oasis of understated elegance and energy, seamlessly blending luxury with the electrifying anticipation of the arena below. Drinks and snacks prepared to indulge. Plush leather seats and floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the rink, where players zipped across the ice during warm-ups, their movements fluid and precise. The low hum of the crowd grew louder as fans filtered in, their cheers and chants creating a symphony of excitement.

Settling into your seat between Aryne and Ashley, one of the newer partners, you let the energy of the arena wash over you. Aryne had already explained to you the program, complete with the team’s roster and a brief overview of tonight’s matchup. Ashley, a bubbly brunette with an infectious smile, leaned toward you as the players took their warm-up laps.

“This must feel different for you, right?” she asked, her tone light but curious. “I heard you usually work behind the scenes.”

You nodded, glancing out at the ice. “Yeah, it’s definitely a change. I’m used to having a laptop or a phone glued to my hand, trying to juggle a million things at once. But this?” You gestured toward the rink and the crowd. “It’s… nice.”

Aryne smirked, crossing her legs as she adjusted her jacket. “Give it time. You’ll get used to it. And just wait until the playoffs—then you’ll really see chaos.”

Her words made the women around you laugh knowingly, and you couldn’t help but smile. Despite your initial nerves, their easy camaraderie and willingness to include you made the night feel less intimidating. You could feel some of your tension melting away as the puck dropped and the game began.

The game itself was a rollercoaster of emotions, a vivid tapestry of skill and chaos that pulled you in from the first puck drop. The energy in the Scotiabank Arena was electric, surging and swelling with every rush up the ice and every close save. You found your eyes darting between players, trying to follow the puck as it zipped across the rink. The sheer speed of the game, the strategic elegance of the plays, and the raw, physical battles along the boards—it was hard not to be swept up in the spectacle.

The crowd around you amplified everything, their collective emotions vibrating through the space. The thunderous roar after a near-miss, the sharp intake of breath before a crucial face-off, and the rhythmic chants of “Go Leafs Go!” reverberating through the air. It was impossible not to feel their passion seep into your bones.

Still, despite the relentless pace of the game, your attention kept drifting back to Auston. There was something magnetic about watching him play. His movements were a blend of power and precision, each stride purposeful, each pass deliberate. When he had the puck on his stick, the arena seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to make magic.

That magic moment came midway through the first period. Auston darted through the Blues’ defense, his movements calculated yet fluid. He threaded the puck between two defenders with an impossibly quick flick of his wrist, and the sound of it hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers that followed.

The suite was no exception. Everyone around you shot to their feet, clapping and cheering as Auston raised his stick in triumph. The grin on his face as he glanced toward the crowd was equal parts exhilaration and pride.

And completely caught up in the energy, you found yourself standing, clapping, and smiling wider than you had in weeks. “That was incredible,” you muttered under your breath.

“See?” Aryne said, nudging you playfully with her elbow. “You’re already a good luck charm.”

You laughed, brushing off the comment as you sat back down. “I think that had more to do with him than me.”

“Maybe,” she teased with a knowing wink. “But we’re a superstitious bunch, so don’t be surprised if you get invited to every game from now on.”

The atmosphere only grew more charged as the game progressed. Between periods, Aryne and Ashley shared tips on following the plays, along with a few lighthearted stories about their partners’ quirks. The conversations were warm, easy, and genuine, slowly chipping away at your initial nerves.

By the second intermission, you were astonished by how much more at ease you felt. The tension that had gripped you earlier had dissipated, replaced by the infectious camaraderie of the group and the sheer joy of being part of the game-day experience.

“So,” Stephanie said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “What’s it like being at the centre of all this Auston Matthews drama? You had to know what you were getting into.”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied with a mock-serious tone, rolling your eyes dramatically. “I totally signed up for endless speculation and internet sleuths digging into my life.”

The women laughed, their amusement genuine. Aryne smiled knowingly, adding, “It’s par for the course around here. You get used to it.”

Stephanie leaned back, her grin widening. “And Auston’s reputation doesn’t make it any easier, huh? He’s always been a rumour magnet.”

Without missing a beat, you shot back, “Yeah, I hear he’s got quite the reputation. Lucky me, right?”

The room erupted into laughter, Stephanie nearly spilling her drink as Aryne shot you an impressed look. “See? You’re already fitting in.”

The encouragement bolstered your confidence, and as the game wore on, you found yourself becoming more invested. The back-and-forth battle on the ice kept you on the edge of your seat, your heart racing with every breakaway and every save. You couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of the suite, your voice blending into the symphony of excitement that filled the arena.

The third period was a nail-biter. The Leafs clung to a one-goal lead, the tension in the arena palpable with every tick of the clock. When the final buzzer sounded, confirming a 3-2 victory, the eruption of cheers was deafening. The players on the ice celebrated, hugging and fist-bumping as the crowd roared their approval.

In the suite, everyone was on their feet again, exchanging high-fives and hugs. Auston had notched two assists to go with his goal, and the chants of “MVP! MVP!” from the crowd sent a strange swell of pride through your chest.

For the first time in years, you felt more than just an observer. You weren’t sitting behind a screen, detached and analytical. You were part of the excitement, the energy, the celebration. And as you glanced around the suite, at the smiles and laughter surrounding you, you felt a flicker of something else—belonging.

_

“Oh, Toronto, what a night it was at Scotiabank Arena! The Leafs may have skated to a thrilling 3-2 victory over the St. Louis Blues, but let’s not pretend the game itself was the only highlight. Our Ice King, Auston Matthews, not only delivered a standout performance with a goal and two assists but also had an unmistakable aura of… let’s call it motivation.

And who, dear readers, could be the source of such inspiration? Why, none other than our newly anointed ‘Mystery Queen,’ spotted in the VIP section, clapping and cheering like a seasoned fan. Donning a Leafs cap—how perfectly symbolic—she blended in seamlessly with the partners and families, a feat not easily achieved.

Rumour has it she was quite the charmer, holding her own amidst the suite’s usual suspects with a mix of humour, wit, and perhaps a dash of nerves. But what does this mean for our beloved captain? Is she truly a lucky charm, or was this just another chess move in the ever-evolving Matthews narrative?

One thing’s for sure: the Ice King played like a man with something to prove. And with the crowd roaring and the Queen smiling in the stands, the buzz around this pairing only grows stronger.

Toronto, hold onto your pucks—this story is far from over. - The Benchwarmer”

_

The corridor leading to the players’ lounge had transformed into a hive of post-game celebration and camaraderie. The noise was an invigorating blend of laughter, cheers, and congratulatory chatter, punctuated by the occasional sound of a locker room door swinging open. The energy was infectious, and for the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of ease, like you might actually belong here.

Aryne walked beside you, her effortless grace balancing out your nervous energy. She glanced back over her shoulder, her warm smile a steadying presence. “You’re doing great,” she said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the din. “This is the fun part.”

You smiled back, grateful for her reassurance, but before you could respond, the door to the locker room opened again. This time, Auston stepped out, his figure unmistakable even in the sea of tall, athletic frames. Dressed in a sharp, fitted shirt and perfectly fitted trousers, he moved with an ease that only heightened his natural confidence. A faint sheen still clung to his brow from the game, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

His eyes locked on yours almost instantly, and a slow, easy grin spread across his face. His strides lengthened as he approached, and the world seemed to blur for a moment. The noise, the people, the buzzing energy—it all faded into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower and warmer than you remembered. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied, matching his smile. “You didn’t think I’d bail, did you?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Nah. You’re tougher than that.”

The way he said it—so simple, so sure—made your chest tighten unexpectedly. Before you could dwell on it, Auston turned slightly, gesturing toward the room behind him. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to the team for real.”

You followed him deeper into the family area, where the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filled the space. Auston’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd, a touch so casual and natural it almost felt rehearsed. But it wasn’t—it was just him.

The first group he approached was of course Mitch Marner and William Nylander, two players whose reputations were as outsized as their talent. Mitch was mid-story, gesturing animatedly as William leaned against a nearby wall, nodding along with an amused smile.

“Hey, guys,” Auston said, cutting through their conversation. “You remember Y/N from the gala?”

Mitch turned first, his expression lighting up immediately. “Of course! Y/N, the one who somehow made Auston look like a gentleman for a night.”

You laughed, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Well, someone had to do it.”

William chuckled, tipping his water bottle toward you. “Nice to see you again, Y/N. So, was this Auston’s idea, or did you volunteer for this madness?”

“Oh, completely forced,” you replied, your tone playful. “Though I wasn’t fully briefed on the chirping committee.”

Mitch clutched his chest in mock offense. “Chirping committee? Us? Matthews, she’s already calling you out. I like her.”

Auston smirked, shaking his head. “I told you, they’re relentless.”

From there, the introductions continued. John Tavares approached next, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to Mitch’s exuberance. He extended a hand, his grip firm but friendly. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again. How’s your night been?”

“Great,” you said, smiling. “Though I’ll admit, watching from the stands is a lot more stressful than it looks.”

John’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “That’s how you know you’re invested. I’m glad you could make it.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself engaged in easy banter with the players, their warmth and humour surprising you. Joseph Woll shyly recalled your conversation at the gala, lighting up when you mentioned PR strategies. Matthew Knies ribbed you about Auston’s music taste, and Morgan Rielly laughed as you poked fun at his dog’s Instagram fame.

Your quick wit seemed to resonate with the group, drawing laughter and amused glances. Even Auston, who often held back in these settings, seemed to relax, his usual aloofness giving way to a softer, more genuine side.

And at one point, Mitch turned to Auston with a mischievous grin. “So, how’d you manage to convince her to put up with you?”

Auston tilted his head thoughtfully. “She hasn’t run away yet, so I must be doing something right.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “I’m still weighing my options.”

The group erupted into laughter, Mitch nearly doubling over as Auston shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered, his tone dry but amused.

As the conversations flowed and the players began to drift off to their families, you realised something you hadn’t expected: you were enjoying yourself. This world still felt foreign in many ways, but tonight, surrounded by their camaraderie and Auston’s steady presence, you felt like you were beginning to find your footing.

The ride home started out in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine blending with the muffled sounds of the city outside. The glow of streetlights filtered through the windows, casting fleeting patterns of light and shadow across the interior of Auston’s car. The events of the night replayed in your mind like a highlight reel: the nervousness of stepping into the suite, the tentative but welcoming smiles of the players’ partners and families, the rush of watching Auston score, and the camaraderie that had felt almost effortless by the end of the night. The tension you’d carried earlier had mostly dissipated, replaced by a quiet sense of accomplishment. You had survived—no, thrived—in a situation that had seemed impossibly daunting just hours ago.

As the car turned onto a quieter street, Auston glanced over at you briefly, his profile lit by the faint glow of the dashboard. “You were great tonight,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

You looked over at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “What, great at standing around and not embarrassing myself?” you teased lightly, shifting your gaze back to the city passing by outside. “Well, I didn’t trip over my words or accidentally insult anyone, so I’ll take that as a win.”

Auston chuckled, but his expression remained serious. “No, I mean it,” he said, his voice a touch more earnest now. “The guys really liked you. You fit in. Like… it wasn’t forced. It seemed natural.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you turned to him, one brow arched in faint amusement. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said quickly, though the slight pause in his response made you wonder if he was trying to convince himself. “Just… impressed. I didn’t expect you to settle into the group so easily.”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “That’s just me playing my part,” you said, your tone soft but pointed. “You said we needed to sell this, so I’m selling it.”

Auston gave a small laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a brief smirk. “Well, you’re a pretty damn good actress then.”

The air in the car shifted, a comfortable quiet settling over you both. But there was something in his expression—something softer, almost contemplative—that caught you off guard. For a moment, the usual arrogance and bravado that seemed to define him weren’t there. Instead, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, more genuine. It made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Auston added after a beat, his voice quieter now. “It was a good move, but… I’m happy you were there.”

You blinked at him, the honesty in his words catching you off guard again. “Well, I’m glad it worked out,” you said with a small smile. “And I guess I didn’t hate it.”

“High praise,” he said with a playful smirk, but there was a warmth in his eyes that lingered.

For the first time all night, the car felt like a bubble—separate from the city’s hum outside and the buzz of the game that had filled the hours before. Auston’s casual arrogance, so often grating, seemed to have softened into something more vulnerable. It wasn’t something he said, but the quiet moments in between, the glances he threw your way when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he listened when you spoke, like he wasn’t just going through the motions. For a fleeting second, you thought you might be wrong about him—that maybe beneath the smug exterior, there was a person worth knowing.

But just as that thought began to take root, the shrill ding of a notification shattered it. His phone, glowing on the center console, displayed the kind of text you couldn’t misinterpret: Tonight? I’ll be free after midnight. The name attached wasn’t familiar, but it didn’t have to be. The implications were clear.

A dry, involuntary laugh escaped your lips. “Of course,” you said, your voice dripping with derision. “The line forms to the left, huh?”

Auston’s head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gestured toward his phone, still illuminated with the incriminating message. “Oh, come on,” you said, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You’ve got half of Toronto’s pussies lining up to keep you company. It’s impressive, really.”

His jaw tensed, the easygoing confidence from just moments ago replaced with something harder. “You shouldn’t even care,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “You’re the one who wanted this fake relationship. Maybe try not to blow it by making it obvious you’re still… fucking the entire city. Plus other cities.”

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine. Auston’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather. “I’m not blowing anything,” he said finally, his voice sharper now, defensive. “And you don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Oh well maybe I do when you’re ruining this for yourself, Auston. If you want people to believe we’re becoming a thing, maybe don’t act like you’re one text away from another hookup.”

His face darkened, his cool exterior cracking under the weight of your words. “You think it’s that easy?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “That I can just flip a switch and turn it all off? I still have needs, you know.”

“Oh poor boy. You know not all of us feel the need to fuck every single living organism,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s really simple.”

Auston’s jaw worked as he processed your jab, his nostrils flaring slightly. But instead of anger, a flicker of amusement crossed his face, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “Oh, is that what this is?” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You’re some sort of fucking saint? Like guys aren’t throwing themselves at you? You act like you’re a nun or something”

The weight of his accusation hit you square in the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded, each beat reverberating in your ears as the truth—the embarrassing, vulnerable truth—sat on the tip of your tongue. And in your frustration, it spilled out before you could stop it.

“What if I am, Auston?” you said, your voice sharper now, thick with unfiltered honesty. “Not all of us measure our self-worth by how many people we’ve slept with. Not everyone wants to be dicked down by so-called famous hockey players. And not all of us have guys lining up for us to pick and choose.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the sharp edges of your voice cutting through the tense silence that had settled between you. Auston’s half-smirk vanished, replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—shock, maybe, or disbelief. His grip on the wheel tightened.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Then he glanced at you, his eyes searching your face for something—confirmation, maybe, or an explanation. “Wait,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re serious?”

You turned your head sharply to face him, your jaw set, and your cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What do you think, Auston?” you snapped. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

His eyes flickered between you and the road again, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t quite process what he was hearing. “I just… I didn’t expect—” He broke off, shaking his head slightly. “I mean, look at you.”

Your laugh was bitter, cutting through the thick tension. “Yeah, I get that a lot. ‘Look at you.’ Like that’s supposed to explain everything. Guess what, Auston? Not everyone gets a free pass to the front of the line just because they look a certain way.”

His jaw tightened at your tone, but his expression softened in a way that made you uncomfortable, like he was seeing you in a light you hadn’t intended to reveal. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice low. “I just… I can’t believe guys aren’t—” He stopped himself again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me you’ve never…”

You crossed your arms, staring out the window as you interrupted him. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not a virgin… I just… haven’t had… several. And before you ask, no, it’s not because I’m waiting for ‘the one’ or some bullshit like that. It’s just… life, okay? I’ve had other things to focus on.”

The admission felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you refused to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his expression. Pity? Judgment? Mockery? You didn’t want any of it.

Auston was quiet for a long moment, his hands gripping the wheel as he processed what you’d said. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more measured. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like… like that’s all that matters. I’m just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, congrats,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Glad I could surprise you.”

He let out a slow breath, his jaw working as though he was choosing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I swear. It’s just… unexpected. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, your tone still sharp, “maybe don’t assume everyone lives their life the way you do.”

That hit its mark. You saw his jaw clench, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t know anything about my life,” he said finally, his voice low and tense.

“Don’t I?” you shot back dryly, turning to face him. “You make it pretty obvious, Auston. The texts, the smug attitude, the way you act like you’ve got everything and everyone figured out. It’s not exactly a mystery.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands gripping the wheel harder. “You think I don’t know what people say about me? What they think? You think it’s easy being in the spotlight all the time, having everyone assume they know who you are?”

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. It was the first time he’d let his guard slip, even slightly, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice softer now. “But that doesn’t mean you have to live up to their expectations, Auston. You’re allowed to be more than what they see.”

His eyes flicked toward you briefly, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he turned back to the road. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But it’s not as simple as you think.”

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the drive, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken words. When he finally pulled up outside your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight, Auston,” you said, your voice flat.

He hesitated, his hands still on the wheel. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car without looking back, the cool night air hitting your skin like a slap. As you walked toward your building, your mind raced, replaying every word, every moment of the conversation. You’d shown Auston a side of yourself you hadn’t meant to reveal, and now you weren’t sure if you could ever take it back.

And yet, beneath the anger and the embarrassment, there was something else—a flicker of curiosity. For the first time, you’d seen cracks in Auston’s carefully constructed facade, glimpses of the person beneath the arrogance. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help but wonder what else he was hiding.

_

Auston sat in the dim silence of his car a bit longer after you’d walked away, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. The image of your expression—hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable—lingered in his mind, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t shake. A part of him felt guilty. He’d crossed a line, and he knew it. Mocking something so deeply personal wasn’t just unkind; it was cruel.

He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly as he stared out at the empty street. Why had he reacted like that? It wasn’t like him to lose his composure, but something about you—your sharp tongue, your defiance, the way you challenged him—had him constantly off balance. And now, after tonight, he couldn’t stop replaying your words.

He tried to make sense of it. You weren’t like the other women he’d been around. They had always been eager, predictable, and easy to impress. But you? You were different. Gorgeous, smart, and fiercely independent. You had a drive and ambition that matched his own, yet there was something you held back, something that made you guarded. It wasn’t insecurity, not entirely. It was like you didn’t see yourself the way others did, like you didn’t realise how much power you actually had.

It frustrated him, but more than that, it intrigued him. How could someone like you not have the confidence to own a room? To own yourself? If you could just see what he saw, you’d be unstoppable.

That’s when the idea hit him—a small spark at first, but the longer he sat there, the more it began to take shape. Maybe this was something he could help you with. After all, confidence was something he had in abundance. It wasn’t just about his career or his reputation; it was a part of him, ingrained in everything he did. And if there was one thing Auston Matthews excelled at, besides hockey, it was teaching people how to win.

The thought gave him a strange sense of purpose, something he wasn’t used to feeling outside the rink. He knew he’d have to tread carefully—suggesting such a thing wasn’t exactly subtle—but if he could help you unlock the confidence you seemed to lack, maybe you’d start to see yourself the way he saw you.

And as he drove home, his mind raced with possibilities, already planning how he could broach the topic without making it awkward. When he finally parked outside his place, the notifications on his phone buzzed incessantly. He unlocked it to find a flood of messages—texts, DMs, and even missed calls—from women he’d hooked up with in the past. The sight of their names and their offers for late-night company felt almost… hollow. Normally, this would be a welcome distraction, a way to shake off the stress of the day. But tonight, none of it appealed to him.

He stared at the screen for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it back into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, the usual comforts didn’t hold the same allure. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to you—your fire, your vulnerability, and the way you’d thrown his own arrogance back in his face. It unsettled him, but it also left him wanting more.

Auston couldn’t explain it, but he knew one thing for certain: helping you wasn’t just about making this fake relationship believable anymore. It had become something else entirely.

_

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Ah, fairytales. What we love most about them isn’t the ball, the glimmering gowns, or even the triumphant cheers of the crowd—it’s the moment the clock strikes midnight. When the glitter fades and the truth steps out from behind its polished veneer. Tonight, our kingdom was alive with victory: William Nylander displayed his prowess, and the ever-wonderful Joseph Woll stood tall as a fortress in the net.

But what of our King and his Queen?

The public saw perfection—two figures poised and radiant, playing their parts to the delight of the masses. Yet, what happens after the stars leave the castle? When the carriage rolls down quieter streets and the world’s eyes no longer linger? Is that the faintest hint of cracks we see forming in their carefully constructed foundation?

Your Majesties, is the story over before it’s even begun?

One must wonder, Toronto. For even in the most enchanting tales, there’s always the question: was it all just an illusion?

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Ring my bell, part 3

part 2

steddie, omegaverse, flagging/signaling culture, getting together, mdni 🔞

Steve shivers with the cold, being mostly out of his pants in the back of Eddie’s van, his hand still buried in the alpha’s hair.

Eddie snuffles tighter against his crotch, purring his pleasure.

“Hey, Piggy,” Steve murmurs, staring softly down at him, noting the time from the digital face of Eddie’s watch, “I should be going, it’s getting late.”

Whimpering, Eddie kisses Steve’s hip as he slithers back. “Yeah, um, it is,” he says softly as he reaches blindly behind himself, grabbing the bandana from his back pocket, and handing it to Steve. 

Steve stares at the wet spot on Eddie’s jeans as he wipes between his legs. He drops the bandana, sure Eddie will huff his slick while he jerks off tonight, warmth filling his chest over how potent Eddie’s desire is for him. He misses the leg hole of his panties the first time, uncoordinated as he works his way back into his jeans.

The warm green scent in the van has gone sharp and bitter under the overwhelming sweetness of Steve’s cum. “Hey, Eddie,” Steve says, smiling when the alpha meets his eyes, “Got a pen?”

“Um…” Eddie digs through his backpack, finding a sharpie and handing it to Steve.

“Thanks.” Steve grabs his hand and scribbles his phone number into Eddie’s palm. “I get off work at 6 tomorrow. Call me.”

Eddie nods emphatically. “Okay. Yeah, I’m free tomorrow night.”

“Good boy.” Steve pats his cheek, grinning as Eddie leans toward him. “My little mushroom pig.”

Pouting, Eddie drops his head to hide against Steve’s shoulder and groans, “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

“Nope! So, I guess you’ve gotta live up to your own hype.” Gripping Eddie’s chin, he turns his face towards him and kisses him slow and sweet. “Promise I’ll wash off my blockers before I see you again.”

A purr rumbles through Eddie’s chest. “Good. Wanna smell you everywhere.”

“I know.”

Eddie surprises him by kissing him hard, too much tongue that Steve gentles, ending with a soft nip at his lower lip. 

Finally, they pull apart, not really wanting to separate. “Good night, Eddie.”

“Night, Steve.”

🐽🐽🐽

His entire shift at Family Video drags, even on a busy Saturday, Steve feels every single minute he’s stuck there. The drive to drop Robin off and then to his own house feels even longer somehow. At least until he turns onto his street and sees a familiar, shitty van waiting in his driveway.

“I called a couple times today, and no one picked up, so I figured your folks were out of town,” Eddie says before popping the last bite of a Hostess cherry pie in his mouth. 

“Business trip,” Steve affirms, trying to stay nonchalant as he climbs out of his car and crosses over to the van. He takes Eddie’s right hand, fingers pressing into the simpler ring there. “You never said what this one means.” Steve taps against the band.

Eddie looks away and clears his throat. “It, um… It was my mom’s.” Steve squeezes his hand, perfectly ready to leave it at that, but Eddie looks up with a smile and squeezes back. “It’s a mood ring. She always said it was about seeing all the magic the world has to offer.”

“That’s beautiful.” Steve lifts their joined hands to his lips and kisses the space on Eddie’s finger just below the ring. “I thought I told you I was gonna shower before I saw you again.”

Blushing, Eddie leans back against the side of his van. “I can wait! Wherever you want me, I’ll wait.”

“Don’t wanna wait. We’ll just have to rearrange the evening’s schedule.” He grins, showing off his teeth.

Then he drags Eddie up to his room for another lesson in giving head, one that ends with him returning the favor. Steve’s pretty sure he sucked Eddie’s brain out through his dick, since he fell flat on his back on Steve’s bed after he came. 

Going to showers after, Steve takes his time, and finds Eddie exactly where he left him, soft cock hanging out of his pants. Steve brings him a warm washcloth, helps him get cleaned up and tucked away. Then he leads Eddie downstairs -and puts on the TV. 

His scent soft and clean, Steve lounges on the couch with Eddie cuddled close, the alpha’s nose pressed firmly against his mating gland. He has Eddie’s hand in his own, scenting at his palm and refraining from taking his thumb into his mouth. He’s trying to keep things calm for the rest of the night.

Steve always thought scentmates would work like in the movies: a jolt of lightning through his body that lets him know ‘this alpha is the one.’ Instead, Eddie’s scent makes him warm, in every way it’s possible to feel warm. The rightness of *knowing* Eddie is his pack, the same way he knows Dustin is his pack.

In that moment, Steve is glad to have his stupid padlock necklace off, never wearing it in water to protect the metal and keep his mother from nagging. But his neck isn’t locked away anymore. He’s pretty sure it belongs to Eddie.

part 4

[strawberri-elixir]

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 17. Back pains

Warning: none 😋

note: little longer that usual ☝️tomorrow will probably be the last update for the next few days (I have the first part of my final exam on thursday so i’m cramming 🌝)

i’ll be gone forever the rest of the day to study 😔

"Okay! I guess it's just the three of us." You pushed through your front door, mentally cursing Maki for not being able to join you in your last minute cram sessions. Yes, she had good reason, but she also was the reason you felt a familiar heat creep up your face whenever you looked at your best friend.

Yuta heads straight for your room, flopping down onto your bed, letting out a big sigh into the mattress. “I’m not excited for this upcoming week.” He was obviously referring to your final exams.

“Me neither.” You took the opportunity to jump on top of him, a small groan coming out of the boy. “But I know we’ll do fine.”

“You’re going to actually break my back.” The dark haired boy shifted his head to look at you from the corner of his eye.

You weren’t given time to react when you felt a weight slump on top of you. Toge had made himself comfortable on top of you, and on top of Yuta. “This is actually kind of comfortable.” He mumbled.

“You two are heavy.” Yuta started shifting side to side, hoping to get at least one of you off of him.

“You love us anyways.” You let out a small laugh, latching yourself onto the boy under you, snaking your arms under him and holding him in place with your legs. “Toge hold on! He can’t get rid of us if we’re holding on!”

Following your command, you felt a pair of hands brush past your waist and cover your hands, holding onto Yuta. All you could hear was the soft chuckle coming from above you, and the loud groans from below you.

Soon enough, you felt yourself tilting to one side before eventually tipping over. Yuta had managed to successfully push himself up enough to topple the two of you off of him.

“Oof.” Toge let go and turned onto his back.

“Okay, study time.” Yuta pulled both of you up, leaving the room to carry all your backpacks to the kitchen. “Up you go.”

You let out a dramatic sigh of defeat, pushing yourself up and dragging your feet down the hall.

“I’m bored. And tired.” You groaned, throwing your head back. The three of you had been studying for god who knows how long, your backs were killing you, your wrists were cramping, and your vision was failing you. “You’re staying over right?” You look up in front of you where the two boys were looking at their screens.

“Yeah.” Yuta mumbled his response.

It was clear that all of you were done with studying, you have been revising non-stop since four in the afternoon. One glance at the clock and you could easily see you had passed the nine hour mark. The fact that all of you were able to remain focused was a mystery to you.

The only break you got was a short trip to the convenience store for more snacks and dinner on the way, but other than that, you were running on straight caffeine and the desire to get a good grade and shove it in your teachers face.

You let out a small yawn, staring at the course material in front of you, all the letters and numbers blurring together to make a big blob. It wasn’t much longer before your eyelids felt heavy and you decided to give them a break. Resting your head in your arms on the table, closing your eyes and letting the darkness consume you.

“Y/n’s asleep.” Toge nudged the boy next to him, nodding in your direction.

“I got it.” Yuta finally shut his laptop, removing his glasses before walking over to your side of the table, gently moving you into an easy position where he can pick you up. “Do you mind getting the bed ready?”

The platinum haired boy nodded, walking down the hallway towards your room where a bunch of things were messily scattered around your bed. He made quick work of everything (he just pushed most of it towards your closet), before fixing up your pillows as Yuta walked in with you on his back.

“We’ll both take the mattress.” He carefully lowered you onto your bed, tucking you in and making sure you were cozy.

“Mhm.” Toge nodded in agreement before taking his spot on the bed.

Yuta quickly followed, turning off the lights and settling down next to Toge, both of them silently looking up at the ceiling. “You’re a streamer right?” The dark haired boy spoke under his breath. “Toginu to be more specific. Correct?”

Toge snapped his head to the left, staring at the boy in disbelief. How did he find out? He’s never mentioned it before. “Are you one of those crazy stalkers?” Was the first thing that came to mind.

“Nah, just a casual fan I guess.” Yuta chuckled. “Y/n is a huge fan, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“Yeah…” He turned to look back up. “How’d you find out?”

The boy looked at him with a smirk. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. But don’t worry, nobody else knows.”

“Good…” Toge sighed. “That actually saves me the trouble of having to tell you, I promise you, I was going to. But I also felt like I owe it to Y/n. But you know, with my feelings, I couldn’t do it.”

“I get it, it’s fine.”

It felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. Toge let out a sigh of relief, thankful he no longer had to worry about anything around his friend.

“Welp, I’m off to bed, night.” Yuta casually turned over, pulling the blanket over his shoulders.

“Night…” The boy responded. It wasn’t long before sleep consumed the both of them, feeling better than they did when they first stepped into your house.

Masterlist | Next

fun facts:

— you’re a HEAVY sleeper. once you’re out, there’s no hope to wake you up for the next few hours

— yuta found out that toge was a streamer by accident (toge left his phone to go to the washroom and got a twitter notification)

— yuta unironically gets back pains from his terrible sitting posture and the heavy ass backpack he carries from one end of the school to the other every day

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @meguemii @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon @chilichopsticks @polarbvnny

@instantmusico @sad-darksoul @hellyyy06 @rosieandthethorns @zellwa @iluv-ace @h3xi2g0n3 @morgyyyyyyy @bellaabee082 @koiir @g0rep1ty @k4romis @beaniedoodz @seventhcinema @macimcnaron @pumpkin6969 @wowowwin @neigee @someonethatisnobody @vndl-1 @yoyo-yui

@blehtotheblehtothebleh @c4ttheart @blogforblorboscreaming @creative1writings @tiredjxnna @mint129106 @mentallyunstablemanlover @anianurst @milesmorals @sleepytoges @azulsmermaidprincess @toges-cough-syrup @liveincans @jals-stuff @yievieslxt @yell-lemonade @inupibaldspot @hyssoplampflickers @lilysaltwater @ayxnxr @lovley212 @delightfuldragoncollection @strxkbylightning @saesofficialwife @izanaslvr-444 @defnotriri

Bold means i can’t tag you for some reason :[

[dreamingkatie]

Therapy 5

Part 4 is here. Look, buds, if you're not into micromanagement and food control and junk, this is where the story veers into your ick territory.

“What have you eaten today, Kate?” Sean says. He leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. His pants are dark gray today. 

I hate him. I swallow.

“Mexican for lunch. I went out with some work friends.” 

“But what did you eat?” he asks, smiling.

“Chips and salsa. A taco. Rice, not all of it.”

“Are you feeling ok about eating?” he asks.

“Mostly, yes.”

He gestures for me to continue.

“I skip some meals. I’m binging sometimes. It’s not great. It’s not the worst it’s ever been.”

“Do you think it’s time for more treatment around that?”

“Oh, no. I’m alright,” I say.

“I’ve looked at a residential treatment facility. It’s in Charlotte, so not too far,” he says.

“I really don’t think it’s time for that. My weight is healthy,” I stammer. “I’m stable. All the meds…”

He folds his hands on the desk and leans forward. I look at his shoes, his striped socks. 

“Your med compliance is much better, absolutely. But you seem depressed. Your weight is – and I don’t want to overstep my bounds here – but if anything, Kate, your weight may be a little too healthy.” 

“That’s… I guess that’s true, but, I mean, the quarantine.” I try to smile but my eyes fill with tears.

“Ah,” he says, “The perfect excuse for not taking care of yourself at all.”

I stare at him. 

“I…”

“Let’s talk a little more about your purging, if you’re comfortable with that, Kate.”

“Okay, yeah. I haven’t done that in a long time, though. It’s such a miserable thing.”

“I’m sure that it is. Did your professor have you keep a food diary, or was it less formal?”

“Less formal. Sometimes I’d jot down notes, counting calories, but I wasn’t great at keeping up with that,” I say. “I remember most of what I eat.”

“I’d like you to start a daily diary,” he says. “I’ve consulted with a colleague and intermittent fasting might be the way to go.”

“Oh.”

“Clearer mind. Hard boundaries.”

“But…”

“I’m emailing you the app now,” he says, and he opens his laptop. “Sending login and password information. You enter everything, as and after you eat. Not at the end of the day. Not as an afterthought. Everything, as it’s happening. I’d like to monitor this in real time.”

“Oh, um, wait,” I say, “You’re accessing the account?”

He looks up, his head tilted. His forehead creases. 

“What would be the point of doing the diary if you have no accountability?” he asks.

“Well, I--”

“One eating window from noon until six. No calorie limit there. We’ll reassess on Thursday, and every week thereafter.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I mumble.

“I think that you do understand, Kate,” he says, standing. “When we look back at the last ten years, when do we see stability? When do we see growth? Or something approximating happiness?”

“I don’t know,” I say, “I don’t know.”

“You do. And you’re going to do the food diary, precisely and accurately, and you’ll be here right on time in two days.”

The tears that have threatened for an hour spill over, finally. My hands are trembling, and I pull on the hem of my sweatshirt. 

“It’s ok to cry,” he says. “Why don’t you take the afternoon off, and you can go home, get your app all set up, and you can cry.”

I sob.

“Kate?”

“Yes, Sean. I will.”

“It’s 6:30. Window to eat is over,” he says. He holds out his hands and helps me up, his hands smoothing over my shoulders, squeezing. 

“But…”

“Nothing else today. Ok, sweetheart? No, look at me. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and runs it over my face carefully, sopping up tears. Leading me to the door, he whispers low and close.

“No food. No scrolling. Maybe a book and some rest. And Kate – hang on, hang on. Let’s get your baseline weight before you go.” 

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet and @corsage! Have a slightly longer snippet than usual to introduce you to a musician AU I am in the very very early stages of working on. ([Band name] redacted only because I haven't settled on one yet 😂 My dumb brain that loves a pun keeps suggesting Strand and Deliver but that's too silly)

-

TK blinks. For a moment, he’s sure he heard wrong. “A tour?”

“Limited American, to start,” Billy says. “And then expanding to Europe if we can, depending on ticket sales.”

With another blink and a dumbfounded shake of his head, TK reiterates, “You want me to go on a world tour? When I literally just got out of rehab?”

Billy frowns. “Oh, is there like … more shit you need to do? With that?”

“I – not, there isn’t …” TK babbles, unable to adequately voice why he’s reacting this way, because really, Billy isn’t wrong. He finished his 30 days. It’s been two weeks on top of that, and he’s stayed away from anything stronger than a regular strength Tylenol for the headache he had last Thursday. He’s not on probation, he’s not being required to do another month in some kind of halfway house. The only thing on his calendar for the foreseeable future is rotting on his couch with a bowl of cereal and binging some sitcom he’s already watched a million times. He doesn’t really have a good reason that he shouldn’t jump right back into work, he just wasn’t expecting it to happen. He hasn’t even reconnected with his band, yet.

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything,” Billy tells him, folding his hands on his desk and looking at TK with a furrowed brow. “If you don’t think you’re ready, we can put all this on hold until you are.”

“But?” TK asks, sensing there’s a big one coming.

Sniffing loudly, Billy’s hands transfer to his keyboard. It clacks noisily in the quiet room as he types, and then he rotates the monitor so TK can see the screen.

The sight that greets him is a Google search of his own name, and as Billy slowly presses the down arrow on his keyboard, TK’s eyes travel over headline after headline – Musician TK Strand seen emerging from upstate drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility, and Lead singer of [band name] checks out of rehab; fans wonder what’s next for the group, and [Band name]’s critically acclaimed album dropped almost eight months ago, here’s why no one’s heard from them since.

He gets stuck for a moment on a particularly cruel one, questioning whether the band will have what it takes to pick up where they left off after a widely publicized relapse derailed what should have been their biggest tour to date.

“The most surefire way to shut all this up, is to get right back on the horse,” Billy says, in a voice that’s serious but not unkind. “You’ve still got an album full of new songs that your fans are dying to hear live, it’s just a few months later than it was supposed to be.”

“They don’t think I’ve got what it takes.” TK nods toward the computer screen.

Billy rotates it back toward himself so TK can’t see it anymore. “They’re wrong.”

“What if they’re not?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess,” TK concedes, swallowing over his dry throat.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“The label suggested it, just so’s you know.”

“God, what?” TK groans, expecting the worst.

“If you agree to this tour, they want to pick your opener.”

“Oh.” TK frowns. It’s not nearly as bad as some of the things he was imagining. “That’s all?”

Pursing his lips, Billy asks, “You heard of Carlos Reyes?”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but TK doesn’t recognize it well enough to be positive as he asks, “Carlos … wait, that song that’s been all over TikTok? That people are like hoedown dancing to?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s a country singer,” TK says, stating what surely must be obvious.

“He is,” Billy agrees without further explanation.

“I don’t feel like we’ll have a ton of crossover fans.”

“He is up and coming.”

“Does he even have more than that one shitty song?”

Billy turns to his keyboard again and shows TK the guy’s Wikipedia page. He’s a year younger than TK and handsome in that wholesome, good Southern boy sort of way, complete with a cross necklace glinting against his clearly shaved chest. As Billy scrolls to the bottom, TK’s gaze catches the information that the lead guitarist and bass player for Reyes’s travelling band are a married couple, and TK barely holds in a scoff.

“He has two albums and an EP,” Billy points out. “He just hasn’t really taken off much, until now.”

Annoyed, TK asks, “And the label thinks, what, we can’t put asses in seats anymore without some lame TikTok star? That I can’t?”

“He’s not a TikTok star, he’s a musician with a growing fanbase. And he’s got a reputation that is not, unlike yours at the moment, covered in shit,” Billy explains in a no-nonsense voice.

“Right.” TK huffs and slides back in his chair. “So, that’s what this is. I was high at a Grammy party three months ago and now my name is mud, so the label wants me to bring some Mouseketeer in a cowboy hat along to calm the shareholders down.”

“I doubt they’d put it exactly that way.” Billy exhales and shrugs. “But basically, yeah. That’s the long and short of it. Reyes and his band are good clean fun, whereas people are still circulating pictures of you almost puking on Ariana Grande, so they’re not willing to put up the money for the tour unless you agree to bring him with you.”

“Fabulous,” TK mutters. “What could go wrong.”

“For the sake of your future in this business, you better hope absolutely fucking nothing,” Billy warns, and it still isn’t unkind, but he isn’t joking.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafebonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @cheekgirl89

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk